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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


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THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


JFrontispurr. 


"  Now  boy,  I  tell  you,  if  any  body  ain't  willing  to  shed  the  last 
drop  of  his  blood  to  keep  that  old  Flag  aflying,  he*s  too  mean  a 
coward  to  live  in  a  free  country."  p-  34 


T II  K 


&&M  ?i>A$ 


7 'I i>d J  forth.  (>fltu/  of the  I'm 
With  th\     S'tripe.t  on//  Slurs  of  fight. 

.1  /ft// '//eft  //•//<■  / 
.hi//  //mi  th/'  ///// 


THE 


OLD     F  LA  G. 


True  to  thy  God,— thou  canst  not  then  be  false 
To  man,  nor  traitor  to  thy  country  prove, — 
Most  loyal,  if  thy  loyalty  have  root 
In  love  for  Heaven,  for  Freedom  and  the  Right. 


PHILADELPHIA : 
AMERICAN  SUNDAY-SCHOOL  UNION, 

No.  1122  Chestnut  Street. 


EW    YORK:    599    BROADWAY. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1864,  by  the 

AMERICAN  SUNDAY-SCHOOL  UNION, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  State* 

for  the  Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   I.  PAQE 

A  July  Morning • 

CHAPTER   II. 
The  Tea-Party A8 

CHAPTER   III. 
Family  History 27 

CHAPTER   IV. 
The  Patriot ^3 

CHAPTER  V. 
A  Day  in  School 58 

CHAPTER   VI. 
The  Fishing-Party 78 

CHAPTER  VII. 
The  Decision 91 

CHAPTER   VIII. 
Sunday  in  the  Red  House H" 


CHAPTER   IX. 


Sunday  Evening 


125 


CHAPTER   X. 
The  Town-Meeting 139 


CHAPTER   XI. 


Sleep. 


154 


1*  5 


6  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTEB   XII.  paok 

Ten  Years  Latek 160 

CHAPTER   XIII. 
The  Wood-Lot 175 

CHAPTER   XIV. 
The  Birthday 190 

CHAPTER   XV. 
Voting 199 

CHAPTER   XVI. 

Eighteen  Hundred  and  Sixtv 216 

CHAPTER   XVII. 
The  Great  Question 229 

CHAPTER   XVIII. 
Loyalty 248 

CHAPTER   XIX. 
A  Talk  with  Susan 262 

CHAPTER    XX. 
Volunteering 270 

CHAPTER   XXI. 
The  New  Captain 292 

CHAPTER   XXII. 
Army  Letters 307 

CHAPTER   XXIII. 
Battle  op  Fredericksburg 324 

CHAPTER    XXIV. 
A  Surprise 338 

CHAPTER   XXV. 
The  Parting 360 


THE   OLD    FLAG. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A    JULY    MOENING. 


I  wish  to  take  my  reader  back  to  the 
year  1840,  and  introduce  him  to  a  family 
which  was  then  living  in  the  western  part 
of  the  State  of  Connecticut.  To  reach 
them,  we  must  leave  the  travelled  road 
leading  from  the  Connecticut  River  to 
the  Hudson,  and  strike  northward  among 
the  hills  which  abound  in  that  portion  of 
the  State.  Among  these  hills  the  soil 
was  sterile  and  rocky,  and  only  partially 
brought  under  cultivation,  large  tracts  still 
lying  in  woodland  and  pasturage.     There 


8  THE    FARM. 

was  a  sparse  population  scattered  here  and 
there  on  the  high  points,  or  in  the  shel- 
tered valleys  between  the  hills,  living  a 
primitive,  laborious  life.  On  descending 
a  steep  abrupt  hill,  there  came  in  view  a 
small  farm,  which  attracted  notice  from 
being  in  so  high  a  state  of  cultivation.  It 
had  several  acres  in  corn,  and  several 
more  in  rye  and  wheat, — the  latter  wav- 
ing in  the  bright  sunshine,  and  just  begin- 
ning to  turn  from  its  original  blue-green 
to  the  golden  tint  which  foretells  a  speedy 
ripening.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the 
road  there  was  a  meadow,  where  labourers 
were  at  work,  and  from  which  was  sent 
forth  far  and  near  the  delicious  fragrance 
of  newly-mown  grass. 

The  house  belonging  to  this  farm  was 
small,  having  but  one  story,  and  standing 
half-way  down  the  hill.  It  faced  the  east, 
and  was  painted  a  bright  red,  with  door 
and  window-facings  of  white.  In  front 
of  it  stood  two  large  chestnut-trees,  over- 
hanging the   low   roof    and  sheltering  it 

ftBC 
NcU 


THE    HOUSE.  y 

from  the  sun.  The  barn,  considerably 
larger  than  the  house,  was  surmounted  by 
a  curious  weather-vane, — a  miniature  ship, 
with  masts  and  rigging  all  complete,  with 
a  rudely-carved  figure-head,  whose  ex- 
tended finger  was  supposed  to  indicate  the 
direction  of  the  wind.  There  was  attached 
to  this  a  weather-beaten  flag,  whose  broad 
stripes  floated  forth  on  the  freshening 
breeze,  now  and  then  giving  a  loud,  joyful 
snap  as  the  wind  stretched  it  out  to  its 
full  extent.  Another  tiny  flag  was  elevated 
on  the  gate-post,  reminding  the  passer-by, 
if  the  ringing  bells  had  not  before  brought 
the  fact  to  his  mind,  that  it  was  the 
Fourth  of  July, — or  Independence  Day,  as 
they  called  it  here. 

By  following  the  only  trodden  path,  the 
back  door  was  reached.  It  opened  into  a 
large,  unfinished  room,  whose  doors  and 
windows  were  all  open  to  admit  the  air, — 
a  room  which  was  used  by  the  family  in 
summer  as  a  kitchen,  though  it  was  only 
a  kind  of  shed-room.     It  was  very  clean; 


10  THE    FAMILY. 

and  in  it,  with  arms  bared  to  the  elbow, 
stood  the  mother  of  the  family,  busily 
engaged  in  making  up  rolls  of  rich,  golden- 
looking  butter. 

The  family  living  in  this  cottage  con- 
sisted of  Mr.  Roberts,  a  middle-aged  man, 
his  wife,  two  daughters  of  fourteen  and 
sixteen,  and  two  sons,  one  ten  years  old 
and  the  other  only  five.  Last,  but  by  no 
means  least  in  the  estimation  of  the  others, 
was  Grandfather  Roberts,  or  Captain 
Roberts,  as  the  neighbours  called  him,  an 
old  sea-captain,  nearly  eighty  years  of  age, 
though  still  hale  and  hearty. 

Mrs.  Roberts,  a  plain,  sensible-looking 
woman,  carried  her  butter  into  the  cellar, 
and,  after  washing  the  dishes,  she  drew 
from  the  oven  a  huge  loaf  of  cake  and 
commenced  frosting  it.  It  was  nearly 
covered  with  a  thick,  glittering  coat  of 
sugar,  when  some  one  exclaimed,  "Oh, 
mother,  how  nice  it  looks  !  I  do  believe 
it  will  be  the  handsomest  loaf  there !  And 
just  see  what  beautiful  lilies  I  have  got ! 


THE    PICNIC.  11 

This  tall  stalk  shall  stand  up  in  the 
middle,  and  I'll  put  a  wreath  of  myrtle 
and  roses  round  it.  Oh,  won't  it  be  beau- 
tiful, mother?" 

Mrs.  Roberts  smiled  as  she  looked  at 
the  beaming  face  of  her  youngest  daugh- 
ter, who  was  standing  with  her  apron  full 
of  flowers,  and  a  magnificent  bunch  of 
white  lilies  in  her  hand.  The  loaf  thus 
ornamented  was  for  a  picnic,  or,  as  they 
called  it  in  that  primitive  place,  a  tea- 
party,  which  was  to  be  held  in  a  grove 
near  the  centre  of  Woodlee,  in  honour  of 
the  day. 

"  Yes,  it  will  be  very  pretty,  Lucy.  But 
we  mustn't  forget  other  things,  if  it  is  In- 
dependence. The  men  will  be  at  home  a 
little  earlier  to  dinner ;  for  grandfather  says 
they  mustn't  be  cheated  out  of  a  good, 
plump  half-day's  frolic ;  and  Sam  and 
Abner  must  both  go  home  and  dress  them- 
selves after  dinner." 

''Are  they  going  to  the  party?" 

"Yes,    of    course:    there    won't   be    a 


12  DINNER    DUTIES. 

young  man,  woman  or  child  staying  at 
home  such  a  day  as  this.  Sam  says  his 
mother  has  made  a  pailful  of  doughnuts 
and  three  strawberry  pies  to  carry." 

"  I  hope  I  sha'n't  have  to  eat  any  of 
them, — such  a  dirty-looking  hole  as  their 
kitchen  is,"  said  Lucy,  with  a  shrug. 

"Hush,  Lucy!  Will  you  never  learn  to 
say  only  what  is  kind  of  others  ?  But 
you  mustn't  make  that  wreath  now. 
There  are  potatoes  to  pare,  and  it's  high 
time  the  water  was  on  to  boil  them;  and 
you  must  pick  the  lettuce, — it  ought  to 
be  in  cold  water  freshening  this  very 
minute, — and  then  you'd  better  run  over 
into  the  pasture  and  pick  a  bowlful  of 
strawberries ;  grandfather  thinks  every 
thing  of  strawberries  and  milk,  you  know." 

"Why,  I  sha'n't  have  a  bit  of  time  to 
make  my  wreath  ;  and  I  want  to  make 
another  one  to  wear  on  my  head,  and  I 
must  baste  the  lace  into  my  muslin  frock, 
and " 

"And  there  is  plenty  of  time  for  it  all, 


THE    DINNER.  13 

if  you  don't  stand  here  fretting.  Mabel 
and  I  will  wash  the  dishes  and  do  all  the 
after-dinner  work,  and  two  o'clock  will  be 
quite  early  enough  to  start." 

So  the  flowers  were  laid  in  a  basin  of 
water,  the  lettuce  gathered,  and  its  broad 
curly  leaves  plunged  into  cold  water  to 
make  them  cool  and  crisp ;  then  the  ever- 
active  Lucy  ran  over  to  the  pasture,  skipped 
over  the  bars,  and  in  less  than  twenty  min- 
utes was  back  again  by  her  mother's  side, 
with  a  heated  face,  and  a  quart  bowl  filled 
with  delicious  strawberries. 

"  Go  in,  now,  and  set  the  table,  Lucy; 
I'll  pick  over  the  strawberries.  But  just 
put  up  the  fire  under  the  kettle,  and  see 
if  the  flat-iron  is  hot :  I  promised  Mabel  to 
smooth  out  her  dress.1' 

So  it  was  all  stir  and  animation  in  the 
Roberts's  kitchen  till  dinner-time,  when 
four  stout  hungry  men  sat  down  to  a 
genuine  farmer's  dinner,  such  as  was  then 
and  is  now,  common  in  all  New-England 
farm-houses,  composed  of  boiled  pork  and 


14  THE    ROYAL    GUESTS. 

corned  beef,  with  turnips  and  potatoes, 
and  ending  with  a  boiled  Indian-pudding. 
Prepared  by  "the  very  neat-handed"  Mrs. 
Roberts,  it  was  a  meal  not  to  be  despised; 
for  the  beef  was  of  the  tenderest  kind,  of 
a  bright  rose  colour  streaked  with  white, 
the  vegetables  boiled  just  enough  to  pre- 
serve their  sweetness,  the  bread  light  and 
wholesome,  the  butter  like  pure  gold,  with 
the  delicious  flavour  of  green  pastures  per- 
vading it,  and  the  pudding  light  and  ten- 
der, with  rich  maple-syrup  and  cream 
poured  abundantly  over  it.  Yes,  it  was  a 
dinner  fit  for  a  king,  not  to  say  for  those 
four  independent  American  farmers,  each 
of  whom  sitting  there  in  his  shirt-sleeves 
considered  himself  equal,  if  not  a  peg  or 
two  superior,  to  any  king  wha  ever  sat  on 
a  throne. 

Before  the  meal  was  finished,  the  other 
members  of  the  family  had  returned ; 
Mabel  from  a  busy  forenoon's  work  of 
arranging  with  others  the  tables  for  the 
party,    and    Leonard    and    Sydney    from 


EXCITEMENT.  15 

school ;  for  in  those  days  boys  had  only  a 
half-holiday  even  on  the  Fourth  of  July. 
They  burst  into  the  room  ravenous  with 
hunger  and  boiling  over  with  excitement. 

11 1  say,  father,"  shouted  Leonard,  "  the 
down-town  boys  are  going  to  get  out  the 
big  cannon  to-night  and  fire  it  off  as  many 
times  as  there  are  States.  Won't  it  make 
a  big  noise  I" 

"Oh,  do  be  careful,  or  you'll  get  hurt, 
boys,"  said  the  anxious  mother.  But  the 
words  were  scarcely  heard  by  the  excited 
boys. 

"And  oh,  father,  mayn't  I  get  some 
powder  with  the  ten  cents  you  gave  me  ?" 

11  Spend  it  as  you  please;  only  be  care- 
ful if  you  have  powder  about,"  replied 
his  father. 

"And  be  sure  and  not  let  Sydney  go 
near  it,"  added  the  mother:  "there  are 
always  so  many  accidents,  I  do  dread  to 
have  Independence  come." 

"  Oh,  don't  make  cowards  of  the  boys, 
mother,"    said    grandfather.     "A    little 


16  THE    DEPARTURE. 

smell  of  powder  never  hurt  a  Yankee 
shaver." 

Leonard  considered  this  sound  doctrine, 
and  could  hardly  wait  to  be  dressed  in 
his  Sunday-clothes  before  he  started  off 
to  make  the  desired  investment;  while 
Sydney  remained  behind,  it  having  been 
decided,  much  to  his  disgust,  that  it  was 
more  prudent  to  have  him  under  his 
mother's  care,  who  at  the  moment  was 
trying  to  reduce  his  rebellious,  sandy 
curls  into  something  like  order, — no  easy 
task,  with  his  restless  head  bobbing  about 
incessantly. 

But  at  length  all  were  ready.  The 
wreaths  had  been  made,  the  loaf  of  cake 
trimmed  to  the  general  admiration  of  the 
family  and  sent  on  by  Abner,  the  work 
done  up,  the  house  put  in  order,  the  two 
girls  dressed  in  pretty  white  muslins  and 
the  mother  in  her  black  silk  ;  and  when 
the  latter,  with  grandfather  and  little  Syd- 
ney,— the  last  to  leave, — walked  out  by 
the  little  footpath  and  shut  the  gate,  the 


THE    DEPARTURE.  17 

farm-house  was  utterly  deserted,  save  by 

the   sober-minded   cat,    who   sat  washing 

her  face  on  the  door-step  as  demurely  as 

if    the    Independence    of    these    United 

States  of  America  had  never  been  declared. 
2* 


18  THE    TEA-PARTY. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE    TEA-PARTY. 

It  was  a  pleasant  sight  to  see  the  people 
who  had  collected  on  the  green  in  Woodlee 
that  summer  afternoon, — some  coming  on 
horseback,  some  in  wagons,  some  on  foot, 
old  men  and  young,  matrons  and  maidens, 
children  and  babies,  all  arrayed  in  their 
best,  and  prepared  to  make  that  one  half- 
day  at  least  a  season  of  joyful  festivity. 
The  first  exercise  of  the  occasion  was  an 
oration  in  the  church,  to  be  delivered  by 
the  Hon.  James  Bailey,  the  one  lawyer  of 
Woodlee,  who  had  been  twice  elected  to 
the  Legislature,  and  once  had  even  attained 
to  the  honour  of  being  one  of  the  Governor's 
Council.  Of  course  Woodlee  was  proud  of 
him  ;  and  when  he  read  the  Declaration 
of  Independence  in  a  full,  sonorous  voice, 


THE    ORATION.  19 

every  eye  was  fixed  on  him  in  admiration. 
If,  in  the  long,  loudly-spoken  address  which 
followed,  there  were  more  gorgeous  meta- 
phors, and  more  grandiloquent  assertions 
of  the  superiority  of  this  mighty  American 
Republic  over  all  the  nations  that  ever 
did  or  ever  will  exist,  than  was  consistent 
with  good  taste,  nobody  in  that  audience 
was  troubled  by  it.  And  when  the  good 
pastor  followed  with  a  fervent  supplication 
to  Almighty  God  that  their  liberties  might 
be  preserved  to  them  and  to  their  chil- 
dren's children  to  the  latest  generation, 
and  the  choir  sung  a  patriotic  hymn,  every 
heart  in  the  assembly  beat  with  a  prouder 
consciousness  that  to  be  a  citizen  of  these 
United  States  was  something  to  rejoice  in 
and  be  thankful  for. 

After  leaving  the  church,  the  people 
adjourned  to  the  grove,  where  the  long 
tables,  bountifully  filled,  and  glowing  with 
bright  flowers,  were  set,  and  already  sur- 
rounded by  laughing  maidens,  whose  blue 
sashes  and  flower- wreaths  proclaimed  them 


20  A    MERRY    SCENE. 

the  presiding  spirits  of  the  scene.  Among 
these  one  would  scarcely  fail  to  mark 
Mabel  Roberts,  a  tidy,  pure-complexioned, 
neatly-dressed  lassie,  whose  snowy  muslin 
robe  and  garland  of  flowers  became  her 
well ; — at  least  so  thought  her  mother,  as 
she  watched  her  movements  with  a  calm, 
fond  eye. 

Many  of  the  old  people  returned  home 
from  the  church ;  but  more  remained  and 
gathered  themselves  in  knots  at  a  little 
distance  from  the  tables,  where  some  board 
seats  had  been  laid,  to  talk  over  the  news 
of  the  day,  or  of  the  old  times,  which  to 
them  seemed  so  much  better  than  the  pre- 
sent. Among  these  the  young  folks  flitted 
about,  dispensing  refreshments,  or  eating 
them  with  jokes  and  noisy  laughter.  'Twas 
a  bright,  merry  scene,  none  the  less  joyful 
that  it  was  all  thoroughly  country-like,  and 
to  a  fastidious  eye  might  have  lacked  some- 
what of  refinement  and  elegance.  There 
were  doughnuts  and  cheese,  and  pies  and 
pickles  to  be  eaten,  and  the  vases  of  flowers 


a  sailor's  speech.  21 

were  in  some  cases  composed  of  peonies  and 
other  blossoms  larger  and  higher-coloured 
than  was  agreeable  to  the  most  cultivated 
taste ;  but  no  city  assembly  ever  contained 
a  larger  proportion  of  innocent,  honest, 
happy  hearts. 

There  were  more  speeches  at  the  table : 
a  short  one  from  the  minister ;  a  funny 
one  from  the  doctor ;  and  then,  to  every- 
body's astonishment,  Grandfather  Roberts 
rose,  his  tall  form  a  little  bowed  and  trem- 
bling, and  his  left  hand  raised  to  stroke 
back  the  gray  locks  from  his  forehead. 

"You  all  know  I  ain't  used  to  makin' 
speeches,"  he  said,  in  a  hearty,  natural 
voice,  "  but  somehow  since  I've  been  set- 
tin'  here  lookin'  at  these  boys  and  girls, 
and  seein'  how  happy  they  all  feel,  and 
then  lookin'  up  at  that  flag  hangin'  over 
their  heads,  I  felt  as  if  I  must  say  a  word 
or  two.  I'm  an  old  man,  and  very  likely 
this  is  the  last  Independence  I  shall  ever 
see :  so  you  must  have  patience  if  I  don't 
call  all  my  words  jist  as  young  folks  do. 


22  a  bailor's  speech. 

The  boys  all  like  to  see  that  flag :  they 
love  to  look  at  the  bright  colours,  and  the 
stripes  and  stars,  but  they  don't  know  but 
little  about  what  it  really  means.  /  know 
— yes,  /know,"  and  he  straightened  him- 
self up  as  he  said  it ;  "for  I've  fought  under 
it.  I  know  how  a  sight  of  that  are  flag 
hangin'  at  the  mast-head  makes  a  sailor's 
heart  spring  and  his  eye  shine  when  can- 
non-balls are  fly  in'  all  round  him,  and 
how  he'd  rather  die  then  hev  it  lowered, 
— yes,  die  a  thousand  times  over  then  to 
see  it  topple  down  and  an  enemy's  run  up 
instead !  I  fought  under  Commodore  Perry 
on  the  lakes,  when  the  Britishers  wanted 
to  lord  it  over  our  sailors  and  to  carry 
'em  off  jist  when  they  pleased,  to  sarye 
aboard  their  men-o'-war.  We  jist  showed 
'em  how  to  let  us  alone  in  future ;  that's 
what  we  did ! 

"But  it  warn't  of  that,  nor  'bout  myself, 
that  I  got  up  to  talk.  I  say  these  boys 
don't  know  what  that  flag  means,  nor  what 
it  means  to  have  a  country.     Our  fore- 


a  sailor's  speech.  23 

fathers,  who  are  dead  and  gone,  knew ;  for 
they  bought  it  for  us  by  fightin',  and  dyin', 
and  sufTerin'  all  kinds  of  privations  and 
hardships  :  they  bought  a  country  where 
everybody's  rights  are  protected,  and  no- 
body can  interfere  to  wrong  or  harm  us, 
by  sheddin'  their  blood  like  water ;  but 
we  jist  sit  down  here  at  our  ease  and  enjoy 
it,  and  think  it's  allers  goin'  to  last  and 
nobody  have  any  trouble.  Perhaps  'twill. 
I  hope  'twill.  It  does  seem  as  if  things 
are  all  fixed  now  so  they'll  go  right  along 
slick  and  easy ;  but  nobody  knows  for  sar- 
tain.  So  I  want,  boys,  you  should  remem- 
ber two  things.  One  is,  that  you've  got 
a  country  that  cost  somethin',  and  is  worth 
somethin' ;  and  the  other  is,  that  you  ought 
to  love  this  country  better  then  any  thing 
else  in  the  whole  world.  Lovin'  our  coun- 
try means  somethin'  besides  firm'  cannon 
and  makin'  speeches  Fourth  of  Julys,  tho' 
them's  all  well  enough  :  it  means  under- 
stand^' what  it's  worth  to  us,  and  bein' 
willin'  to  give  up  every  thing  for  it, — even 


24  a  bailor's  speech. 

our  very  lives,  if  it's  ever  necessary.  You 
all  laugh  to  hear  me  say  that,  'cause  you 
are  so  sure  it  never  will  be  necessary. 
Mabbe  't won't ;  but  didn't  you  never  see 
the  sky  in  the  mornin'  so  blue  and  clear 
there  wan't  a  speck  of  a  cloud  on  it  as  big 
as  your  finger-nail,  and  then  hev  a  black 
cloud  come  right  up  sudden,  and  the  wind 
a  blowin'  great  guns,  and  the  water  a 
foamin'  and  pitchin'  like  mad,  afore  night, 
and  the  sky  a  lookin'  as  if  it  never  was  a 
shinin'  blue  and  never  would  be  ?  Now, 
I  hain't  much  larnin',  but  I've  read  a  little, 
and  I  know  the  nations  of  the  airth  are 
allers  gettin'  into  trouble  ;  and  mabbe  we 
can't  expect  to  be  better  off  then  they.  So, 
for  all  the  sky  looks  so  smilin'  now,  it  may 
be  black  and  squally  before  you  die.  Any 
way,  it  won't  do  no  harm  to  keep  your 
sails  reefed  a  bit,  and  a  taut  hold  on  the 
helm.  People  never  keep  their  libbaty 
long  if  they  don't  desarve  it ;  and  if  we 
git  proud  and  wicked,  and  sot  up  in  our 


a  sailor's  speech.  25 

own  eyes,  and  forget  the  God  who  helped 
us,  we  sha'n't  be  fit  for  freedom,  and  then 
it  will  be  took  away  from  us.  Sometimes 
I  think  these  young  folks  may  live  to  see 
the  day  when  they'll  have  to  buy  their 
libbaties  over  again,  and  pay  the  price, — 
may  live  to  see  the  old  flag  a  wavin'  agin 
over  battle-fields  and  dyin'  men.  God 
forbid!  and  perhaps  'tain't  likely.  But 
then  I  do  want  every  boy  here  to  grow  up 
a  lovin'  his  country  so  well  that,  if  ever  he 
should  be  called  to  it,  he  will  follow  that 
dear  blessed  flag,  that's  floatin'  up  there 
agin  the  sunshine,  right  into  the  hottest 
fight,  as  brave  as  Washington  himself. 
That's  all  I've  got  to  say.  Love  God;  do 
your  duty  to  him  fust,  and  then  you'll 
allers  be  ready  to  do  your  duty  to  every- 
body else ;  and  be  sartain  to  do  it  to  the 
dear  blessed  country  God  has  given  to  you 
to  keep  as  long  as  you  live  and  then  leave 
for  your  children  after  you." 

Tears  were  falling  down  the  old  man's 


3 


26  THE    EFFECT. 

face  when  he  sat  down.  Other  hearts, 
too,  were  touched,  and  other  eyes  were 
tearful ;  for  all  knew  that  the  speaker  had 
been  a  brave  man,  and  a  true  lover  of  his 
country. 


FAMILY    HISTORY.  27 


CHAPTER  III. 

FAMILY    HISTORY. 

"  Didn't  grandfather  talk  first-rate  yes- 
terday?" asked  Leonard  Roberts  the  next 
morning. 

"  Yes,"  answered  his  mother,  smiling. 

11 1  felt  sorry,  though,  when  he  first  got 
up,"  said  Lucy ;  "for  he  talks  so  old-fash- 
ioned, I  thought  they  would  all  laugh  at 
him." 

1 '  You  never  need  feel  ashamed  of  your 
grandfather,  Lucy,"  said  Mrs.  Roberts, 
with  a  slight  shade  of  displeasure  in  her 
voice  :  "  his  age  and  sound  good  sense  will 
always  command  respect  from  those  whose 
opinion  is  of  any  value,  even  if  a  few 
silly  boys  should  laugh  at  his  pronuncia- 
tion." 

"Mr.  Granby  said"   (Mr.  Granby  was 


28  A    QUESTION. 

the  minister)  "  that  he  was  the  best  man 
in  town  to  make  a  Fourth-of-July  speech," 
said  Leonard,  "because  he  was  a  true 
patriot.     What  is  a  true  patriot,  mother?" 

11  Ask  your  grandfather,  Leonard:  I  am 
too  busy  to  explain  it  just  now.  Besides, 
he  can  do  it  better  than  I."  • 

"  But  he's  off  in  the  lot,  working  at  the 
hay.  Oh,  I  wish  I  could  stay  at  home 
from  school  and  turn  hay!    It's  real  fun!" 

"  I  dare  say  ;  but  I  think  your  grand- 
father will  tell  you  one  of  the  things 
necessary  for  a  true  patriot  is  to  lay  the 
foundation  for  a  good  education  now  you 
are  young  and  have  the  time  for  it." 

"Ho!  A  patriot  don't  mean  that!  I 
know,"  said  Leonard,  contemptuously.  "It 
means  fighting,  or  being  brave,  or  some- 
thing of  that  sort.  But  I  shall  ask  grand- 
father when  I  get  home  :  he'll  tell  me  all 
about  it." 

With  this  resolve,  Leonard  went  to  look 
for  Sydney,  whose  morning -hours  were 
usually  divided  between   two  white   pigs 


The  two  boys  set  oft  d.nva  the  hill,  with  their  dinner  pail  in  hand.' 

p.  ». 


GOING    TO    SCHOOL.  29 

in  the  pen,  and  four  broods  of  chickens, 
whose  mothers  were  shut  up  in  coops  in 
the  yard,  while  the  chickens  ran  about 
among  the  grass,  and  had  become  so  tame 
and  well  acquainted  with  the  little  fellow 
that  he  could  take  them  up  in  his  hand 
at  any  time.  He  usually  rebelled  a  little 
at  being  summoned  to  prepare  for  school ; 
and  the  daily  ordeal  of  having  his  hands 
and  face  washed,  his  hair  combed  and  a 
clean  apron  put  on,  was  evidently  consi- 
dered by  him  a  most  severe  affliction. 

When  it  was  over,  the  two  boys  set  off 
down  the  hill,  with  their  tin  dinner-pail  in 
hand.  They  had  a  walk  of  three-quarters 
of  a  mile  to  take ;  and,  as  they  went  lei- 
surely along  the  road,  coarsely  but  cleanly 
dressed,  with  bare  feet  and  sun-browned 
faces,  they  were  fair  representatives  of  the 
sons  of  our  New  England  farmers  in  that 
day. 

Leonard  was  rather  short  and  thick-set, 

with  broad,  square  shoulders.     His   eyes 

were  dark  gray,  his  hair  brown,  and  his 
3* 


30  CAPTAIN    ROBERTS. 

features  large, — especially  his  nose  and 
mouth.  He  would,  no  doubt,  be  called  a 
plain-looking  boy  :  still,  he  had  a  sensible 
face,  and  a  frank  open  expression  some- 
what redeemed  its  plainness.  Sydney  was 
a  homely  boy,  too,  but  of  a  different  type. 
His  abundant  locks  decidedly  inclined  to 
red,  and  he  was  freckled  ;  his  eyes  were  of 
a  light  blue,  his  lips  delicate  and  finely  cut, 
and  his  whole  face  indicated  a  far  more  sen- 
sitive nature  than  Leonard's  ;  he  was  more 
slenderly  built,  too,  and  looked  delicate, 
while  Leonard  was  the  very  picture  of 
rude  health  and  vigour.  While  they  pro- 
ceed on  their  way  to  school,  we  will  give 
some  details  of  the  family  history. 

Old  Mr.  Roberts — or  Captain  Roberts, 
as  he  was  usually  called — was  born  on 
the  island  of  Nantucket,  and,  like  most 
boys  born  there,  he  early  went  to  sea, 
and  followed  the  seas  for  many  years, — 
sometimes  going  on  merchant-vessels,  but 
oftener  on  whaling-voyages.  This  mode 
of  life  made  him  (almost  of  course)  hardy, 


CAPTAIN    ROBERTS.  31 

bold  and  adventurous ;  and,  what  was 
not  so  common,  he  also  became  a  temper- 
ate, upright,  God-fearing  man.  In  time 
he  married,  remaining  at  home  for  two 
years  afterwards  ;  but  he  pined  to  be  once 
more  on  the  sea,  and,  having  risen  to  be 
second  mate  of  a  whaler,  he  went  several 
long  voyages  in  that  capacity,  rarely  re- 
turning oftener  than  once  in  three  years, 
and  remaining  only  two  or  three  months  at 
longest.  In  time  he  became  first  mate,  and 
then  master,  of  a  vessel.  On  the  breaking 
out  of  the  War  of  1812,  fired  with  indig- 
nation at  what  he  considered  the  violation 
by  Great  Britain  of  the  rights  of  Ame- 
rican seamen,  he  enlisted  in  the  naval  ser- 
vice of  the  United  States,  and  was  a  most 
brave  and  efficient  officer,  first  in  the  Medi- 
terranean Squadron,  and  afterwards  under 
Commodore  Perry  in  his  brilliant  career 
on  the  lakes. 

At  the  close  of  the  war,  being  some- 
what disabled  by  the  injuries  he  had  re- 
ceived, and  past  forty  years  of  age,  he  de- 


32  THE    OLD    FLAG. 

cided  to  retire  from  the  sea  and  purchase 
a  farm,  where  his  sons  might  be  trained  to 
a  life  of  less  hardship  and  peril  than  his 
own  had  been.  So  he  emigrated  to  the 
State  of  Connecticut  with  a  wife  and  four 
children,  and  settled  in  the  little  town  of 
Woodlee,  building  there  the  small  cottage 
in  which  we  find  him.  There  his  wife  and 
one  son  had  died,  there  his  two  daughters 
had  married,  and  there  he  was  now  spend- 
ing a  green  old  age  with  his  only  surviving 
son,  who,  being  born  on  the  same  day  on 
which  Washington  died,  he  had  named 
George  Washington. 

Perhaps  the  strongest  trait  in  the  cha- 
racter of  the  old  sea-captain  was  his  in- 
tense love  of  the  flag  under  which  he  had 
served,  and  which  he  regarded  with  a  vene- 
ration and  homage  only  second  to  that  he 
felt  for  his  Bible  and  God.  To  him  that 
strip  of  bunting  represented  the  country 
he  loved,  the  country  for  which  he  had 
perilled  life  and  limb.  Its  stripes  were 
symbols  of  the  precious  blood  shed  in  its 


LOYALTY.  33 

defence,  and  its  stars,  of  the  crowns  the 
brave  heroes  who  had  fought  on  her  battle- 
fields had  won.  Every  Fourth  of  July, 
whether  in  sunshine  or  in  storm,  he  un- 
rolled it  to  the  breeze ;  and  never  could  he 
look  at  it,  as  it  floated  forth,  without  deep 
emotion,  so  significant  was  it  to  him  of  all 
that  was  dearest  to  him  as  a  citizen  of  a 
free  nation.  In  his  mind,  love  of  God  and 
love  of  country  were  never  dissevered,  the 
latter  growing  out  of  the  former  as  natu- 
rally as  the  fruit  from  the  stalk. 

"Talk  of  a  man's  being  loyal  to  God 
and  disloyal  to  his  country!"  he  would 
sometimes  say:  "why,  it  ain't  nateral  to 
think  of  such  a  thing.  If  a  man  loves 
God,  he  does  the  things  God  wants  him  to  ; 
and  don't  he  want  him  to  sarve  his  coun- 
try? Who  but  God  gave  him  such  a 
country  as  this,  and  blessed  it, — a  country 
where  every  man  sits  in  his  own  house  in 
safety  and  worships  God  after  his  own 
conscience,  with  nobody  to  molest  or  make 
afraid  ?     And  if  anybody  in  these  United 


34  THE    OLD    FLAG. 

States  ain't  grateful  to  God  for  the  privi- 
leges he  has  given  to  him,  and  don't  do  all 
he  can  to  be  worthy  of  'em,  then  he  don't 
desarve  to  have  such  privileges :  that's 
all!" 

It  was  a  favourite  habit  of  his  to  talk 
to  Leonard  about  the  flag,  and  how  much 
blood  had  been  shed  to  protect  it ;  and  he 
would  often  wind  up  by  saying, — 

"Now",  boy,  I  tell  you,  if  anybody  ain't 
willing  to  shed  the  last  drop  of  his  blood 
to  keep  that  old  flag  a  flyin',  he's  too 
mean  a  coward  to  live  in  a  free  country  : 
he  ought  to  go  and  live  among  the  Bri- 
tishers and  put  his  neck  right  under  the 
heel  of  the  old  despot," 

Sensible  and  pious  as  the  old  captain 
was,  he  had  an  intense  hatred  of  the 
British,  and  never  was  willing  to  believe 
that,  next  to  his  own  land,  England  was 
the  nation  of  all  others  in  the  world  where 
the  civil  and  religious  rights  of  the  inha- 
bitants were  best  secured.  He  could  only 
remember  the  cruel  treatment  our  seamen 


THE    OLD    FLAG.  35 

had  received  at  her  hands,  and  that  they 
had  fired  on  our  flag  and  tried  to  lay  it  in 
the  dust. 

After  Independence  Day  had  passed,  the 
flag  was  taken  down  and  carefully  laid 
away,  with  the  injunction,  "Now,  mind, 
children,  if  grandfather  ain't  here,  don't 
forget  to  set  the  old  flag  a  wavin'  on  the 
Fourth :  'pears  to  me  'twould  do  me  good 
to  see  it,  even  in  another  world." 

George  Washington  Roberts  had  inhe- 
rited much  of  his  father's  patriotic  feel- 
ing, but  lie  was  of  a  less  enthusiastic  tem- 
perament, being  a  quiet,  reserved  man,  of 
thorough  integrity,  but  inclined  to  take 
rather  gloomy  views  of  life.  His  expe 
rience  had  not  been  of  a  nature  to  over 
come  this  natural  distrust.  The  farm, 
bought  when  he  was  a  young  man  and  at 
that  time  lying  chiefly  in  woodland,  with 
only  a  little  clearing  round  the  house,  had 
been  brought  under  excellent  cultivation, 
principally  by  his  own  efforts.  He  had 
toiled   early  and  late,  lived  frugally,  and 


36  AN    EVIL    HOUR. 

denied  himself  in  all  ways,  that  the  farm 
mighl  be  made  a  valuable  possession  for 
himself  and  his  children;  and  a  valuable 
possession  it  became,  giving  abundant 
proof  of  the  industry  and  thrift  of  its 
owner.  Where  the  forest  had  stood,  there 
were  now  acres  of  choice  pasturage,  and 
other  acres  of  fine  mowing;  while  others 
still,  glowed  with  harvests  of  golden  grain. 

But  in  an  evil  hour  George  and  his 
father  set  their  names  to  a  note  of  hand 
as  endorsers  for  a  wealthy  merchant  in 
the  place.  The  wealthy  merchant  ab- 
sconded within  a  year,  leaving  nearly 
everybody  in  the  country  involved  in  his 
ruin  ;  for  his  reputation  had  been  such 
that  every  person  who  had  a  little  money 
to  invest  was  sure  to  place  it  in  his  hands ; 
and  execrations  deep,  if  not  loud,  were 
breathed  upon  the  defaulter  by  many  a 
poor  widow  and  orphan  whose  little  all 
had  been  swallowed  up. 

To  meet  the  demands  for  money  thus 
pressing  upon  them,  the  two  Roberts  were 


ECONOMY.  37 

compelled  to  sell  a  large  portion  of  their 
beautiful  farm,  and  to  mortgage  the  re- 
mainder ;  and  five  years  after,  when  our 
little  narrative  commences,  this  mortgage 
still  remained,  though  a  small  payment 
had  been  made  each  year.  To  do  this, 
and  support  the  family  on  the  small  farm 
left,  required  the  most  rigid  economy ; 
and  this  was  practised,  every  household 
arrangement  being  made  in  reference  to 
one  great  end, — paying  off  the  debt. 

Notwithstanding  this  economy,  there 
was  an  air  of  neatness  and  comfort  per- 
vading the  red  house  which  would  have 
astonished  one  not  familiar  with  the  re- 
sources of  a  capable  Yankee  housekeeper  ; 
— and  an  excellent  housekeeper  Mrs. 
Roberts  certainly  was,  in  every  sense  of 
the  word.  She  knew  where  to  curtail 
expense  and  where  to  be  liberal,  knowing 
that  to  scrimp  in  some  places  was  only  a 
false  economy,  tending  to  poverty  and  not 
to  thrift.  Her  children,  though  always 
dressed  in  the  plainest  manner  (her  daugh- 


38  MRS.   ROBERTS. 

ters'  white  muslins,  pretty  but  inexpen- 
sive garments,  being  all  the  dresses  they 
had,  except  the  plainest  for  every-day 
wear),  were  never  kept  at  home  from 
school ;  and  books,  maps,  and  whatever 
was  necessary  to  their  progress  while 
there,  were  freely  provided.  Rich  cake 
and  pastry  were  unknown  in  the  house; 
but  in  the  sitting-room  there  was  a  little 
shelf  of  books,  containing  some  valuable 
histories  and  works  of  travel.  In  short, 
Mary  Roberts,  plain,  unpretending  woman 
as  she  was,  had  learned  (what  some 
better-educated  people  never  do)  that  what 
nourishes  the  mind  and  conduces  to  its 
growth  is  of  more  value  to  a  child  than 
what  tickles  the  palate  ;  though,  like  all 
really  good  housekeepers,  she  was  careful 
to  provide  a  supply  of  wholesome,  well- 
cooked  food  for  the  family,  and,  indeed, 
rather  prided  herself  on  having  nicer 
bread,  butter  and  cheese  than  most  of  her 
neighbours. 

But  it  was  all  the  product  of  their  own 


A    NEW-ENGLAND    HOME. 


39 


land.     They   raised  their  own  beef    and 
pork,   their    grain    and    vegetables,    their 
milk,  butter  and  cheese,  and  even  made 
their  sugar  and  molasses  from  the  maple- 
trees  which  grew  on  the  hill  opposite  the 
house.     And,  as  only  grandfather  drank 
tea  or  coffee,  there  was  very  little  outlay 
for  the  table.     Indeed,  it  is  a  misuse  of 
the  term  to  speak  of  poverty  in  a  New- 
England  farm-house  where  there  is  any 
thing  like  thrifty  management  and  where 
intemperance  has  never  gained  a  foothold. 
What  greater    luxuries    could    any   table 
boast  than  were  furnished  by  that  nice 
garden  which  the  old  gentleman  took  care 
of,  with  Leonard's  help, — whose  little  fin- 
gers were  early  taught  to  weed  the  beds, — 
and  which  was  sure  to  yield  such  radishes 
and  lettuce,   such  peas,  beans   and  corn, 
as    grew   in    few   other    gardens,  because 
grandfather  was  so  very  nice  and  parti- 
cular about  planting  and  weeding  them? 
When  freshly  gathered  and  nicely  cooked, 
they  were  indeed   delicious ;  so  were  the 


40  A    NEW-ENGLAND    SOME. 

rich  milk  and  cream,  and  the  berries 
which  grew  wild  in  every  pasture  around 
them,  and  could  always  be  had  in  their 
season  for  the  gathering. 

The  farm  yielded,  in  addition,  fuel  (for  a 
portion  of  it  was  still  uncleared),  and  pas- 
turage for  a  flock  of  sheep,  from  which 
they  got  not  only  wool  enough  to  make 
winter-garments,  but  quite  an  overplus  to 
sell  to  the  wool-dealers  of  a  neighbouring 
county.  Their  wool  and  butter  were  their 
principal  sources  of  income ;  for,  though 
they  raised  considerable  grain  and  hay, 
most  of  it  was  consumed  on  the  farm  in 
the  winter  months,  and  the  larger  propor- 
tion of  the  farm  was  better  adapted  to 
grazing  than  to  tillage. 

The  garden  gave  them  another  luxury, 
— flowers ;  for  the  girls,  with  now  and  then 
a  little  help  from  their  grandfather,  culti- 
vated the  borders,  and  in  summer  and 
autumn  they  bloomed  out  into  a  profusion 
of  peonies,  roses,  lilies,  pinks,  marigolds, 
and  other  old-fashioned  flowers  which  it 


THE    HOi:SE.  41 

did  a  body's  heart  good  to  look  at, — to  say 
nothing  of  the  sage  and  sweet-marjoram, 
and  wormwood,  hoarhound  and  rue,  which 
also  grew  there  to  season  their  sausages 
and  cure  their  coughs  and  colds. 

So,  in  spite  of  the  debt,  and  the  economy 
they  were  obliged  to  use,  the  dwellers  in 
the  snug  farm-house  had  many  enjoy- 
ments, and  a  spirit  of  contentment  and 
peace  reigned  throughout  their  little  do- 
main. 

A  very  small  domain  it  was,  so  far  as 
the  house  itself  was  concerned ;  for  it  had 
been  originally  intended  only  for  the  kit- 
chen-part, before  which  a  larger  front  part 
was  to  be  erected;  and  the  preparations 
for  this  new  part  were  all  made  when  the 
debt  came  upon  them;  but  now  it  was 
indefinitely  postponed.  So  that  it  was  a 
mere  box  of  a  dwelling,  scarcely  larger  than 
a  marten's  box.  There  were  only  two  rooms 
of  any  size  in  it,  the  front  one  being  the 
"best  room;"  the  other  served  for  sitting- 
room,  dining-room,  and  also  kitchen,  except 


42  THE    HOME. 

in  summer,  when  the  cooking-stove  was 
taken  out  into  the  unfinished  room  in  the 
back  shed.  Out  of  these  two  rooms  doors 
opened  into  two  tiny  bedrooms,  each  just 
large  enough  for  a  bed,  washstand  and 
chair ;  and  up-stairs  were  two  attic  rooms, 
where  the  children  slept. 

Every  part  of  this  little  dwelling  was 
as  neat  as  wax  ;  and  this  neatness  and 
order  gave  a  charm  to  it  sometimes  want- 
ing in  houses  of  larger  dimensions.  In- 
deed, both  the  parents  and  children  were 
sincerely  attached  to  this  humble  dwelling, 
and  seldom  felt  a  wish  for  one  more  ele- 
gant or  imposing.  It  is  love  and  kindness 
which  make  home  the  cherished  place,  or, 
in  the  words  of  the  good  old  proverb,  make 
it  "home,  be  it  ever  so  homely;"  and  to  its 
inmates  the  red  house  was  indeed  a  home 
in  the  best  sense  of  that  expressive  word. 


THE    PATRIOT. 


43 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    PATRIOT. 

It  was  not  till  after  he  had  eaten  his 
bread-and-milk  that  night,  that  Leonard 
found  his  grandfather  sufficiently  at  leisure 
to  answer  his  question.  Then,  as  the  old 
gentleman  was  sitting  in  the  door  to  enjoy 
the  evening  breeze,  he  came  and  sat  down 
by  him. 

11 1  want  to  know  what  a  patriot  means, 
grandfather.  Mother  said  you  could  teli 
me  better  than  anybody." 

"A  patriot?  A  patriot?  Why,  it's  a  man 
who  loves  his  country  with  all  his  heart." 

"But  doesn't  it  mean  a  man  who  fights 

for  it?" 

"Yes,  if  it's  necessary  he'll  fight  for  it, 
of  course;  but  a  true  patriot  is  the  man 
who  does  all  he   can  for  his  country  in 


II  THE    PATEIOT. 

just  such  times  as  he  happens  to  live  in, 

whether  they're  war-times  or  peace-times. 
Some  patriots  have  saved  their  country  by 
dyin'  on  battle-fields,  some  by  makin'  good 
laws  for  it,  some  by  standin'  up  agin  op- 
pression, and  bein'  parsecuted,  and  put 
in  prison,  and  may-be  hung,  because  they 
wouldn't  submit  to  tyranny  and  wrong. 
This,  I  take  it,  is  the  toughest  kind  of  pa- 
triotism; for  'tain't  no  mighty  matter,  when 
a  man's  blood  is  up,  to  go  into  battle  and 
be  shot;  but  it  must  be  tryin'  to  lie  in 
prison,  and  be  hung  on  a  gallows,  like  a 
thief  or  murderer.  Yes,  there's  a  sight  of 
ways  by  which  a  man  can  do  something 
for  his  country  if  he  wants  to ;  and  if  he 
truly  sarves  it  in  any  way,  he's  a  patriot." 

Then  came  out,  rather  hesitatingly,  the 
question  which  had  been  stirring  in  the 
boy's  mind: — "Can  I  he  a  patriot,  grand- 
father?" 

"Why,  God  bless  you,  yes,  boy!  there 
ain't  no  thin'  to  hender  your  growin'  up  as 
good  a  patriot  as  ever  breathed."    After  a 


THE    PATRIOT.  45 

little  pause,  lie  added,  "And  the  sooner  you 
begin  about  it,  the  better." 

Leonard  opened  his  eyes.  Probably 
visions  of  flashing  more  powder  and  firing 
heavier  cannon,  danced  through  his  brain. 

11  You  ought  to  be  beginnin'  now ;  because 
if  a  boy  don't  start  right  he  ain't  apt 
to  come  out  right.  If  he  begins  by  dis- 
obey in'  his  parents,  cheatin'  other  boys, 
and  doin'  all  sorts  of  mean,  dirty  tricks 
and  thinkin'  they're  smart  and  cunnin',  he's 
amazin'  apt  to  end  in  bein'  a  low,  good-for- 
nothin'  fellow,  a  disgrace  to  himself  and 
his  country  both.  Now,  nobody  can  be  a 
patriot  who  ain't  honest,  and  who  don't 
tell  the  truth  let  it  cost  what  it  will.  So, 
if  you  begin  now  to  despise  all  low,  mean, 
vulgar  tricks,  and  to  stand  up  for  the  truth 
without  flinchin'  a  hair  if  you  do  have  to 
suffer  for  it,  you'll  be  layin'  the  founda- 
tion for  a  patriot ;  because  a  patriot  is  an 
honest  man  and  a  brave  man, — whereas  a 
liar  is  never  any  thing  but  a  poor,  cowardly 
sneak  of  a  critter  all  his  life. 


46  THE    PATRIOT. 

"Yes,  as  I  was  Bay  in',  there's  a  great 
many  ways,  Leonard,  of  doin'  something 
for  your  country ;  and  some  are  called  to  do 
one  thing,  and  some  another.  I  don't  know 
as  you  are  old  enough  to  understand  about 
such  things  yet;  but  when  you  get  older 
your  old  grandfather  may-be  won't  be  here 
to  talk  with  you." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  can  understand,  grandfather. 
Why,  I'm  ten  years  old  next  November!" 

"Partly  you  can,  and  partly  you  can't, 
I  suppose.  Well,  about  fightin' :  it  ain't 
likely  'twill  ever  come  your  turn  to  do 
that ;  leastwise,  we  don't  calculate  on  havin' 
a  war  in  your  day." 

"If  there  is  one,  I'll  go  and  fight,  grand- 
father; I  promise  you  that!" 

"Why,  I  hope  so.  boy, — that  is,  if  it's 
a  war  to  uphold  the  right  and  presarve 
the  libbaties  of  your  country.  War  is  a 
dreadful  thing,  and  I  hope  it  may  never 
come  to  this  happy  land;  but,  if  it  does,  I 
hope  nobody  who's  got  a  single  drop  of 


VOTING.  47 

my  blood  in  their  veins  will  sutler  that 
old  flag  to  be  dishonoured." 

Leonard  placed  his  hand  silently  on  his 
grandfather's  knee,  in  token  that  he  never 
would. 

11 1  hope  you'll  never  have  to  fight,  my 
boy ;  but  there  is  one  thing  you  will  have 
to  do  if  you  live,  and  that  is,  to  vote." 

"  Yes,  I  know  that :  everybody  has  to 
vote  in  town-meeting  once  a  year." 

"  Yes,  each  citizen  has  to  vote  in  town- 
meetin',  and  in  that  way  he  governs  the 
country,  or,  rather,  helps  to  make  the  laws 
which  govern  the  country.  This  is  the 
way  it's  done.  You  go  to  town-meetin' 
here  in  Woodlee,  and  you  vote  for  men  to 
go  to  the  State  Legislature  and  to  Con- 
gress ;  and  these  men,  when  they  get  there, 
make  laws  for  the  State  and  nation.  So, 
you  see,  if  you  go  and  vote  for  John  Pease, 
and  John  Pease  is  a  bad  man,  who  don't 
care  nothin'  about  his  country,  but  only 
jist  how  to  git  into  office  and  sarve  his 
own  ends,  then  you've  done  your  country 


48  THE    LAWS. 

an  injury  ;  mabbe  not  a  dreadful  sight  at 
first,  but  you've  done  it  some  ;  for  if  John 
Pease  is  a  bad  man  he'll  be  pretty  likely 
to  do  all  he  can  to  make  bad  laws,  and 
you  are  to  blame  for  the  bad  laws  he 
makes  :  don't  you  see?" 

11  Yes,  grandfather ;  but  then  we  are 
governed  by  a  President." 

"No,  we  ain't,  my  boy  ;  we  are  governed 
by  laws,  arid  the  President  don't  make 
these  laws  :  he  only  sees  they're  put  in 
force,  or  executed :  so  that  he  is  sometimes 
called  the  Executive.  Really,  the  President 
don't  have  but  dreadful  little  power  in 
ordinary  times.  He  can't  make  a  single 
law  :  only  if  he's  a  mind  to  stop  a  law  he 
can.  It  ain't  a  law  till  he's  signed  his 
name  to  it ;  and  if  he  don't  choose  to  do 
that,  he  ain't  obliged  to  :  he  may  decline, 
and  give  his  reasons  for  it.  This  is  what 
is  called  using  his  veto.  But  when  a  law 
has  passed  thro'  Congress  and  he  has  signed 
it,  so  that  it  is  really  a  law  of  the  nation, 
he  must  see  it  is  carried  out,  or  executed. 


VOTING.  49 

And  in  a  time  of  war,  he  stands  at  the 
head  of  all  our  armies,  is  !  Commander- 
in-chief  of  the  army  and  navy  of  the 
United  States :'  that's  what  the  Consti- 
tution says."' 

"  But  who  makes  the  President,  grand- 
father?" 

"Why,  the  people, — everybody  who 
votes.  They  choose  in  town-meetin'  men 
called  electors,  and  these  electors  say  who 
shall  be  the  next  President.  If  I  want 
Jackson  to  be  our  President,  I  vote  for  the 
electors  who'll  put  him  in  ;  and  if  I  want 
Clay  to  be  the  President,  I  vote  for  the 
men  who'll  put  him  in.  So,  you  see,  I  do 
as  much  as  any  other  man  towards  makin' 
our  President ;  for  one  vote  counts  just  as 
much  as  another.  The  poorest  man  in 
Woodlee  puts  in  one  vote,  and  the  Governor 
himself  can't  put  in  any  more.  We  are 
all  on  the  same  footing  in  this  matter  of 
voting.  Folks  ain't  on  the  same  footing 
in  every  thing.  Some  folks  are  richer 
than  others,  and  some  are  handsomer  and 


50  VOTING. 

stronger  and  smarter,  and  always  will  be; 
but  the  rich  man  does  no  more  to  make 
laws  for  us  than  the  poor  man :  them's  the 
equal  rights  folks  have  in  this  country, 
and  they  don't  have  'em  in  any  other  that 
ever  I've  heerd  on.  Now,  if  folks  ain't 
good  themselves,  they  won't  vote  for  good 
men  :  so  the  very  first  thing  towards  bein' 
a  patriot  is  to  be  a  good  man  yourself." 

11  Yes,"  added  the  old  gentleman,  after 
a  little  pause,  "every  man  in  this  country 
has  got  to  vote,  and  he's  got  to  larn  how 
to  vote." 

"Learn  how?  I  don't  understand  that," 
said  Leonard. 

••  Why,  he's  got  to  get  eddication  enough 
to  understand  about  things,  and  how  they 
ought  to  be  done  in  the  country.  Then 
he'll  know  a  good  law  from  a  poor  one, 
and  how  to  send  men  to  the  Legislatur' 
that  will  make  the  right  sort  of  ones. 
You'll  be  a  voter,  Leonard,  when  you  are 
twenty-one  ;  and  afore  that  time  comes, 
it's  your  solemn  duty  to  larn  how  to  vote 


THE    PATRIOT.  51 

in  such  a  way  that  your  country  will  be 
the  better  for  your  voting.  You  must  go 
to  school  and  learn  about  the  different 
countries  in  the  world,  and  their  kind  of 
government,  and  about  the  history  and 
government  of  your  own  country :  so  that 
you  can  tell  what's  good  for  the  country 
and  what  ain't.  Eddication,  every  citizen 
of  a  free  country  must  have ;  and  he  must 
have  somethin'  else,  too:  he  must  have 
piety j — that  is,  the  love  and  fear  of  God  in 
his  heart.  If  a  man  loves  God,  he  will 
love  justice  "and  libbaty,  and  will  want 
justice  and  libbaty  to  prevail  in  the  land. 
Allers  remember,  Leonard,  that  it  takes 
two  things  to  make  a  good  voter  and  a 
good  patriot, — for  the  two  are  pretty  much 
the  same  thing,  I  take  it,  in  our  country, — 
and  these  are  knowledge  and  piety.  Re- 
member this  as  long  as  you  live ;  and  never 
forget  that  the  man  who  votes  understand- 
ing^, and  in  the  fear  of  God,  is  the  man 
who  loves  his  country  and  is  doing  what 


52  VOTING. 

lie  can  to  have  her  well  governed  and 
prosperous/' 

"But  there  are  some  people,  grandfather, 
who  can't  get  much  education  :  how  will 
they  learn  how  to  vote?" 

11  It's  true  all  men  can't  have  a  sight  of 
book-larnin',  for  they  don't  get  time  to 
study;  but,  thank  God,  there  ain't  no  man 
in  this  country  who  can't  get  knowledge 
enough  to  understand  something  about  the 
laws  and  government  of  the  land,  and 
about  her  history ;  and  if  he  don't,  it's  his 
own  fault,  for  we've  got  schools  for  every 
child.  If  he's  born  in  a  poor-house,  it  don't 
make  any  difference  :  he  can  go  to  school 
till  he's  sixteen  without  its  costin'  him  a 
single  cent.  So,  if  our  voters  don't  know 
enough  to  discarn  between  right  and  wrong, 
it's  their  own  fault.  But  they  do  know, 
and  can  tell  the  difference.  Bless  me  !  don't 
they  talk  politics  by  the  hour  in  every  bar- 
room, and  store,  and  shoemaker' s-shop,  the 
country  over;  and  if  they  don't  allers  talk 
sound  doctrine,  'tain't  because  thev  don't 


DANGERS.  53 

know  enough:  it's  because  they  ain't  good 
enough:  that's  the  trouble!  They  don't 
want  to  see  the  right  upheld  and  justice 
prosper!" 

The  old  man  stopped  and  sighed  heavily, 
and  turned  his  cane  round  and  round,  as  if 
some  painful  thought  had  risen  in  his  mind. 

"Yes,  folks  ain't  good  enough:  that's 
the  trouble !  They  ain't  honest  enough : 
they  don't  love  God  enough.  If  they  loved 
God,  they'd  love  right  and  justice,  and  want 
to  see  'em  done  to  every  human  bein'.  If 
ever  trouble  comes,  it  won't  be  because  we 
are  ignorant,  so  long  as  we  have  a  school- 
house  on  every  hill  and  in  every  valley  : 
it  will  be  because  we  are  dishonest,  and 
corrupt,  and  love  wickedness,  and  have 
forgot  God  and  his  commandments :  that's 
what  I'm  afeard  on ! "   And  he  sighed  again. 

"But  some  have  to  learn  how  to  be 
representatives,  and  Governors,  and  other 
great  men,  grandfather." 

"Don't talk o' that, Leonard!  Office-holdin' 
ain't  what  belongs  to  folks  in  general ;  and 

5* 


54  WASHINGTON. 

if  it  did,  the  way  to  be  a  good  officer  is  to 
be  a  good  citizen, — to  stay  at  home  and 
mind  your  own  business.  The  man  who 
runs  around  to  get  himself  into  notice,  and 
thinks  he's  fittin'  himself  for  some  great 
things,  is  jist  the  man  who  ain't  fit  for 
nothin':  he's  only  puffed  up,  jist  like  a 
bladder,  with  nothin'  in't  but  wind.  Why, 
how  do  you  think  George  Washington  made 
himself  fit  for  a  gineral  and  a  President  ? 
By  just  bein'  a  steady,  likely  boy,  who 
went  to  school  regular,  and  allers  told  the 
truth,  and  got  his  lessons,  and  minded  his 
father  and  mother.  The  seeds  was  planted 
in  him,  the  seeds  of  honesty  and  patriot- 
ism, while  he  was  quietly  doin'  his  duty 
every  day,  like  any  other  good  boy  ;  and 
wThen  he  got  to  be  a  man,  they  sprouted 
up  and  bore  fruit  to  the  blessin'  and  savin' 
of  his  country.  Do  you  suppose  if  he'd  a 
lied,  or  cheated,  or  been  lazy,  he'd  a  made 
such  a  gineral  as  he  did"?  Xo.  indeed: 
pretty  likely  he'd  a  been  like  Benedict 
Arnold,  that  old  traitor,  who  allers  lied  ! 


LAWS. 


55 


Do  you  jist  go  to  school,  Leonard,  and  larn 
all  you  can,  and  mind  your  parents,  and 
tell  the  truth,  and  do  what  is  right;   and 
then,  if  God's  gin  you  any  great  abilities, 
they'll  show  themselves  fast  enough  ;  and 
if  he's  called  you  to  do  any  great  work  for 
your  country,  never  fear  but  that  you'll  do 
it  in  his  own  good  time.     But  don't  go  to 
thmkin'  about  bein'  fit  for  office.     That's 
just  the  worst  thing  a  boy  or  man  can  do. 
There's   allers  men  enough  to  make  the 
laws.     You  do  your  best  to  obey  them. 
Law  is  all  we  have  to  govern  us  in  our 
country;  and  a  true  patriot  is   the   man 
who  votes  as  he  ought  to,  and  obeys  the 
laws  of  his  country  as  well  as  he  knows 

how." 

"  What  if  it's  a  bad  law?  Must  he  obey 

then?" 

"Yes,  till  it  is  changed.  The  way  to 
mend  that  in  our  country  is  to  get  the  bad 
law  altered, — not  to  despise  it  while  it  is  a 
law  of  the  land.  As  long  as  we  send  good 
men  to  make  the  laws,  the  laws  will  be 


56  OUR    SAFETY. 

good.  Make  it  a  matter  of  conscience, 
my  boy,  to  obey  the  laws,  for  this  is  the 
only  way  that  a  free  people  like  us  can 
hev  any  rights  ;  and  he  who  disobeys  the 
law  cannot  be  a  good  citizen.  I  am  afraid 
we  don't  think  of  this  enough.  It's  the 
main  pillar  that  our  freedom  and  prosper- 
ity rest  on,  and  all  that  keeps  us  from 
goin'to  destruction." 

The  old  gentleman  had  evidently  for- 
gotten the  presence  of  his  youthful  auditor, 
and  sat  with  bowed  head,  as  if  some  vision 
of  the  future  rose  darkly  before  him.  If 
so,  it  passed  away ;  for  he  raised  his  face  in 
a  moment  and  looked  upward  with  cheer- 
ful trust. 

"The  God  of  our  fathers,"  he  said, 
reverently,  "who  brought  them  over  the 
wide  ocean  and  set  them  in  a  large  place, 
and  has  made  of  us  a  great  people, — the 
mighty  God  of  Jacob,  he  can  presarve  us 
still,  and  cause  us  to  love  and  serve  him 
through  all  comin'  generations." 

"Be  a  true  patriot,  Leonard?"  he  added, 


A    PATRIOT.  57 

after  a  few  moments'  silence,  "  Yes,  in- 
deed you  can  be  !  You  can  love  God  and 
fear  him,  and  pray  to  him  night  and  day, 
as  long  as  you  live,  to  save  your  country 
from  ignorance  and  sin.  You  can  be  an 
honest  man  yourself;  you  can  try  to  make 
other  men  honest;  and  you  can  do  all  that 
in  you  lies  to  put  honest,  God-fearing  men 
into  office.  Yes,  you  can  be  a  patriot, 
my  boy:  God  grant  you  allers  may  be 
one!" 

The  setting  sun  threw  its  last  beams  on 
the  bared  head  of  the  old  sea-captain,  and 
rested  on  his  gray  hairs  like  a  crown  of 
glory.  Leonard  felt  a  new  love  and  vene- 
ration for  him ;  and,  as  he  sat  at  the  door 
of  that  lonely  cottage  among  the  hills,  a 
desire  to  be  truthful  and  honest  and  good 
sprang  up  in  the  heart  of  the  bo}f,  and, 
though  unuttered,  something  like  a  resolve 
that,  God  helping  him,  he  would  become 
a  true  patriot,  stirred  in  the  depths  of  Lis 
boyish  soul. 


58  A    BAY    IN    SCHOOL. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A    DAY    IN    SCHOOL. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  such  con- 
versations as  these  had  an  influence  on 
Leonard,  though  at  the  time  he  thought 
little  about  them.  Boys  of  his  age  do 
not  think  much.  It  is  a  receptive  age, 
when  they  see  and  hear  and  feel,  but  do 
not  shape  their  mental  processes  into 
definite  ideas.  What  is  thus  received, 
however,  is  the  material  out  of  which  the 
man  is  made  ;  for  always,  silently,  hour 
by  hour,  the  boy  is  becoming  moulded 
into  the  future  man,  and  every  surround- 
ing influence  has  its  share  in  determining 
what  the  character  of  that  man  shall  be. 

The  stories  his  grandfather  liked  to  tell 
him  about  his  battles,  and  his  repeated  in- 
junctions to  be  always  upright  and  honest 


HONESTY.  59 

and  true  to  the  flag,  all  had  their  influence 
on  Leonard ;  but  far  more  powerful  was  the 
daily  life  he  saw  lived  in  the  red  house. 
It  was  a  life  of  continued  toil  and  self- 
denial  in  order  that  their  debts  might  be 
paid;  and  it  taught  lessons  every  hour. 
Parents  who  live  on  borrowed  means,  who 
resort  to  all  kinds  of  tricks  and  deceptions 
to  get  rid  of  paying  their  honest  debts, — 
they  too  teach  lessons  to  their  children  ; 
and  how  is  it  possible  that  such  can  grow 
into  upright,  honourable  men  and  women? 

Never  would  Mary  Roberts's  children 
forget  the  look  of  astonishment  and  rebuke 
which  she  one  day  cast  on  the  lawyer  who 
advised  her  not  to  sign  the  deed  of  mort- 
gage, thereby  retaining  her  right  to  dower. 

11  Not  do  all  I  can  to  pay  my  husband's 
debts?"  she  said,  looking  up  into  his  face 
with  her  straightforward  eyes.  "  I  would 
rather  die  in  the  poor-house  an  honest 
woman,  than  live  in  luxury  with  our  debts 
unpaid  !" 

"But  this  is  a  hard  case,"  said  the  law- 


60  HONESTY. 

yer,  who  had  come  from  a  neighbouring 
town  to  assist  in  arranging  matters,  and 
meant  kindly  by  the  suggestion.  "  If 
your  husband  had  had  the  benefit  of  the 
money,  it  would  have  been  different;  but, 
being  only  an  endorser,  there  was  really 
no  value  received." 

11  He  became  responsible  for  the  debt 
by  his  own  free  act,"  replied  the  wife, 
quietly.  "It  was  a  very  unwise  thing,  as 
it  proved;  but  the  creditor  is  entitled  to 
his  money  just  the  same  :  it  is  not  his 
fault  that  the  principal  failed,  or  that  my 
husband  signed  the  note.  No,  it  is  an 
honest  debt,  and  it  shall  be  honestly  paid, 
God  giving  us  health  and  strength  !" 

Probably  the  attorney  still  thought  her 
over-scrupulous,  and  possibly  she  was ; 
but,  if  every  wife  and  mother  in  our  land 
would  teach  such  lessons  as  these,  we 
should  soon  hear  little  of  swindling  con- 
tractors, knavish  law-officers,  or  fraudulent 
merchants  and  mechanics.  The  want  of 
an   honest  home-training, — is   it   not  the 


A    PROPOSAL.  61 

great  want  of  our  time  and  nation  ? 
Fathers,  mothers,  are  you  by  your  daily 
life  teaching  your  children  to  be  honest, — 
to  pay  their  debts  at  whatever  sacrifice, 
and  never  to  take  or  keep  what  is  not 
justly  their' s? 

The  next  day,  as  Leonard  and  Sydney 
went  past  Mr.  Hall's,  who  lived  at  the 
foot  of  the  long  hill,  John  Hall  was  wait- 
ing for  them  at  the  gate ;  and  by  the 
time  they  reached  the  turn  in  the  road, 
there  were  Susan  and  Sarah  Lee  coming 
from  the  opposite  direction.  So  the  five 
children  went  on  together.  After  turning, 
their  road  lay  through  a  piece  of  uncleared 
woods. 

11 1  say,  let's  have  some  fun  out  of  Nat 
Howe,"  said  John:  "he's  got  a  parcel  of 
butternuts  hid  up  here  somewhere.  I 
guess  they're  around  this  hollow  tree. 
He's  calculating  to  have  a  great  crack  one 
of  these  days;  but  we'll  hide  'em;  and 
won't  he  look  astonished  when  he  finds 
they  are  all  gone?" 


62  A    PLOT. 

Leonard  was  ready  enough  for  fun. 
Besides,  Xat  Rowe  was  what  all  the  boys 
called  stingy,  and  no  favourite  at  best. 

"But  where  shall  we  carry  them?"  he 
asked. 

"Oh,  we'll  throw  'ern  into  the  brook; 
he  won't  be  likely  to  find  them  there,  I 
reckon." 

11  But  it  will  be  wicked  to  waste  them," 
said  Susan  Lee:  "butternuts  are  so  good." 

"I  don't  care  for  that,"  said  John,  "if 
we  can  only  put  'em  where  he  won't  see 
'em  again." 

After  a  long  search,  the  nuts  were  diS- 
covered  in  a  little  hollow  place,  surrounded 
by  loose  stones  and  covered  over  with 
leaves. 

"  There  ain't  so  very  many,  after  all," 
said  John.  "  Suppose  we  just  divide  em 
among  ourselves.  I  can  carry  my  share 
in  my  pocket,  and  here  are  the  girls'  bags, 
— a  capital  place  to  put  'em  in." 

"I  don't  want  the  dirty  things  in  my 


THE    RIGHT.  63 

bag,"  said  little  Sarah,  in  a  doleful  voice: 
"they'll  spoil  my  patchwork." 

11  Then  throw  'em  into  the  brook  and 
done  with  it!"  said  John.  And  the  younger 
children  began  to  gather  them  up  glee- 
fully for  that  purpose. 

"No,  we  won't  put  them  in  the  brook," 
said  Leonard.  "They  don't  belong  to  us. 
They're  Nat's;  and,  if  he  is  a  mean,  stingy 
fellow,  we  haven't  any  right  to  take  his 
things.  I  don't  mind  hiding  them  for  fun ; 
by-and-by  we  can  tell  him  where  they 
are,  or  carry  them  back;  but  I  won't 
throw  them  in  the  brook." 

"  Bosh!  I  don't  believe  in  being  so  no- 
tional,"  exclaimed  John,  pettishly.  "  I 
guess  he'll  find  'em:  if  he  can't,  he  won't 
starve." 

"They  belong  to  him,"  said  Leonard, 
more  decidedly.  "He  took  ever  so  much 
pains  to  pick  them  up,  and  we  haven't 
any  right  to  his  things." 

"Then  you  haven't  any  right  to  move 
'em  at  all,"  said  John :    "we  haven  t  any 


64  A    WISE    DECISION. 

right  to  his  things"  lie  added,  drawling 
out  the  words  in  an  absurd  imitation  of 
Leonard's  tone,  which  made  all  the  others 
laugh. 

Leonard's  fist  instantly  closed  with  a 
boy's  instinct  to  show  fight ;  but  he  changed 
his  mind,  and  said,  rather  crossly,  "No, 
we  haven't;  and  I  won't  have  any  thing 
to  do  with  it !  It's  time  we  were  going 
to  school." 

"So  'tis,"  said  Susan  Lee.  "I  don't 
want  a  tardy -mark."  So  they  set  off, 
John  and  Leonard  both  a  little  disturbed 
in  spirit. 

"I  suppose  you  expect  to  get  the  medal 
to-night,"  said  Susan,  playfully,  to  Leonard ; 
"but  you  won't.  I've  studied  my  lesson 
over  ten  times,  and  I  sha'n't  miss  a  word. 
But,  if  I  do  get  down,  I'd  rather  you  would 
be  at  the  head  than  anybody  else." 

"I'll  bet  I  can  beat  you  both,"  cried 
John.  ' '  What  if  I  am  at  the  head  myself, 
Miss  Lee?" 

Susan  laughed  merrily .     "Oh,  you  won't 


IN    SCHOOL.  65 

be.  You're  away  down  at  the  foot, — all 
but  one, — you  know." 

"But  I  can  study  if  I've  a  mind  to." 

They  all  knew  he  could;  but  he  was 
such  an  idle,  careless  fellow,  he  seldom 
tried  to  do  his  best. 

They  soon  left  the  woods,  and  came  out 
on  the  little  level  grass-plot  on  which  the 
school-house  stood,  and  where  some  twenty 
or  thirty  children  were  now  gathered.  A 
moment  after,  the  bell  rang,  and  they  all 
went  in, — the  girls  hanging  their  bonnets 
on  a  row  of  nails  upon  one  side  of  the 
entry,  and  the  boys  their  caps  on  another 
row  opposite. 

The  exercises  of  the  school  went  on  as 
usual.  First  a  chapter  from  the  Bible  was 
read,  then  a  short  prayer,  after  which  each 
class  read  in  turn,  beginning  with  the  oldest, 
and  ending  with  the  little  ones  who  sat  on 
the  small  bench  and  were  worrying  through 
the  mysteries  of  "b-a-ba,  b-e-be." 

Susan,  John  and  Leonard  belonged  to 
the  third  class.     Miss  Brace  had  promised 


66  TS    »  BOOL. 

a  present  to  the  pupil  in  each  class  who 
should  have  the  greatest  number  of  marks 

for  perfect  lessons  at  the  close  of  the  term. 
The  members  of  the  third  class  were 
nearly  on  a  level  in  capacity  and  attain- 
ments that  there  was  a  keen  strife  among 
them  to  win  this  prize.  Whoever  was  at  the 
head  went  to  the  foot  at  the  close  of  the 
day,  to  work  his  way  up  again  as  best  he 
could ;  and  whoever  was  at  the  head  wore 
home  the  medal, — a  silver  dollar  with  a 
hole  in  it,  through  which  a  bright-coloured 
ribbon  was  passed ;  and  supremely  happy 
was  the  child  who  wore  that  medal  home. 
In  addition,  a  prize  was  to  be.  given  to  who- 
ever during  the  term  should  have  gained 
the  most  tickets  for  good  behaviour, — 
a  ticket  being  given  only  when  there  had 
been  some  unusual  excellence  in  conduct. 
Delighted  as  they  all  were  to  get  the  medal, 
the  tiny  bits  of  pasteboard  with  "Good 
Behaviour"  written  on  them  were  still 
more  coveted,  perhaps  because  so  much 
more  rarely  obtained. 


IN    SCHOOL.  67 

This  day,  Martha  James  stood  at  the 
head  of  the  third  class,  Susan  Lee  next, 
and,  below  her,  Leonard  Roberts:  so  that 
any  failure  on  Susan's  part  would  bring 
Leonard  to  the  head  at  night, — the  place 
which  Susan  would  have  if  she  was  per- 
fect in  all  her  lessons.  Both  Susan  and 
Leonard  studied  their  lessons  very  dili- 
gently after  they  had  finished  reading; 
for  the  third  class  was  the  first  to  spell 
after  recess.  For  a  wonder,  John  Hall 
was  also  quite  industriously  studying  his: 
so  that  Miss  Brace  was  not  obliged  to  keep 
her  eye  perpetually  on  his  corner;  and 
she  was  careful  to  give  him  a  word  of 
commendation  as  she  passed  by  him.  "  If 
John  would  only  really  apply  himself," 
she  said,  as  if  to  herself,  "he  might  make 
such  a  fine  scholar, — he's  so  bright  and 
quick-witted." 

After  recess,  the  boys  came  rushing  in, 
hot  and  breathless  from  their  sports ;  and 
only  a  brief  space  was  given  them  to  com- 
pose themselves,  when  the  words,  "Third 


68  IN    SCHOOL. 

class,  take  your  places,"  rang  through  the 
room.  Out  they  marched  in  obedience  to 
the  summons, — Xo.  1,  No.  2,  Xo.  3,  and  bo 
on  to  the  last,  Xo.  8, — all  ranging  them- 
Bel  ves  by  a  crack  in  the  floor.  The  majority 
had  bare  feet;  but  who  cared  for  that?  It 
was  heads,  not  feet,  that  were  to  be  thought 
of  then, — only  as  each  looked  down  to  be 
sure  his  were  exactly  on  the  crack.  Their 
bright  faces  showed  they  were  all  confident 
of  acquitting  themselves  well;  and  John 
Hall,  though  down  at  Xo.  7,  looked  as  com- 
placent as  any  of  them.  As  it  happened, 
Clara  Jones  missed  a  word  the  first  time 
round,  which  brought  him  up  to  Xo.  6. 
John  certainly  was  fortunate  that  day ;  for 
both  Xo.  4  and  Xo.  5  afterwards  missed  a 
word,  which  was  quite  an  unusual  thing: 
and,  having  studied  his  lesson  thoroughly, 
John,  for  a  wonder,  could  spell  it  rightly, 
and  with  a  triumphant  toss  of  his  curly 
head  he  walked  up  and  placed  himself  next 
to  Leonard  Roberts,  into  whose  side  he 
gave  a  most  significant  nudge,  that  he  might 


IN    SCHOOL. 


69 


be  fully  aware  of  the  fact.  Perhaps  this 
success  stimulated  John  to  new  efforts;  for 
be  had  but  one  failure  in  his  arithmetic- 
lesson,— a  most  remarkable  event.  So  at 
the  close  of  the  morning  session  our  three 
friends  were  in  excellent  spirits. 

In  the  afternoon,  the  classes  went  through 
the  same  rouitne  of  reading  and  spelling. 
The  excitement  in  the  third  class  was 
greater,  because  if  Susan  Lee  failed  now 
she  lost  the  medal.  But  she  was  known 
to  be  a  good  scholar,  and  no  one  expected 
she  would  fail:  so  the  chief  interest  was 
in  watching  Leonard,  who  would  be  the 
medal-boy  the   next  day  if  he  kept  his 

place, which  was  by  no  means  sure,  as 

he  often  missed  a  word. 

The  second  time  round,  Clara  Jones 
missed  another  word,  and  went  down  again, 
with  a  flood  of  tears;  but  she  was  so  near 
the  foot  that  her  change  of  place  was  of 
no  vital  importance.  At  the  fourth  and 
last  round,  the  word  achievement  came  to 
Leonard,  who  spelt  it  promptly ,  a-c  h  e  i  v  e— 


70  IN    SCHOOL. 

ment,  ment,- — achievement.  "Try  again, 
Leonard,"  Baid  Miss  Brace..  There  w 
profound  stillness  in  the  school-room.  Noi 
only  that  class,  but  all  the  others,  looked 
up  and  listened.  The  question  of  ins  and 
outs  was  quite  as  interesting  to  them  as  in 
the  political  circles  to  which  they  might 
one  day  belong. 

Perhaps  the  consciousness  that  so  much 
was  at  stake  confused  Leonard ;  for,  though 
he  had  studied  his  lesson  so  thoroughly 
that  he  felt  sure  when  he  came  out  he 
could  spell  every  word,  he  now  hesitated 
and  was  at  a  loss.  Miss  Brace's  back  was 
turned  an  instant,  and  Susan  Lee  whis- 
pered "iet  "  very  softly;  but  Leonard  heard 
it,  and  the  second  time  spelled  it ' '  a-c  h  i  e  v  e - 
ment." 

"Right,"  said  Miss  Brace;  and  the 
spelling  went  on  quietly. 

But  all  was  not  quiet  in  Leonard's 
bosom.  A  strong  feeling  of  shame  at  his 
deception  was  rankling  there.  He  was 
keeping   his    place,   not   because    he  was 


IN    SCHOOL.  71 

entitled  to  it,  but  on  false  pretences; 
and  his  face  grew  very  red  from  this 
inward  conflict;  but  no  one  was  looking 
at  him. 

Martha  James  went  to  the  foot,  resign- 
ing her  medal  to  Miss  Brace  as  she  passed 
down.  Susan  Lee  took  her  place  at  the 
head  of  the  class,  and  Miss  Brace  was 
placing  the  medal,  with  a  smile,  round  her 
neck,  when  she  was  startled  by  a  half-sob 
which  came  from  Leonard. 

"I  should  have  missed  if  she  hadn't 
told  me!"  he  exclaimed,  in  an  excited 
tone,  making  a  great  effort  to  suppress  his 
emotion.  There  had  been  a  struggle.  He 
was  sorely  tempted  to  let  the  deception 
pass  unnoticed,  and  retain  his  place  ;  but 
the  principle  of  honour  and  justice  had 
triumphed.  He  would  not  keep  his  place 
by  acting  a  lie. 

"It  is  against  the  rtiles  to  tell,"  said 
Miss  Brace,  with  a  cloud  on  her  face.  "It 
is  a  wrong  thing  to  do ;  and  I  am  very  sorry 
to  find  any  one  in  the  class  has  been  guilty 


72  IN    SCHOOL. 

of  it.  It  is  in  effect  a  falsehood  to  pretend 
to  know  a  word  when  you  do  not,  I 
am  very  glad,  Leonard,  that  you  are  too 
honourable  to  take  advantage  of  such  a 
deception,  and  I  hope  you  will  always  be 
too  upright  to  keep  a  place  in  your  class, 
or  anywhere  else,  which  does  not  right- 
fully belong  to  you.'* 

Then  came  the  question  whether  John 
should  go  up.  It  was  a  difficult  one  to 
settle,  for  it  was  not  sure  he  would  have 
been  able  to  spell  the  word, — though  he 
probably  would,  as  he  had  studied  so  dili- 
gently that  day.  The  school-room  was 
hushed  to  hear  the  decision. 

MI  want  to  have  exact  justice  done," 
said  Miss  Brace,  "but  it  is  very  difficult 
to  tell  what  justice  does  require  in  this 
case.  It  is  clear  that  Leonard  ought  to 
lose  his  place,  as  he  could  not  spell  the 
word ;  but  it  is  not  so  clear  that  John 
ought  to  take  it." 

"I  am  willing  he  should,"  said  Leonard, 
whose  face  had  now  cleared,  and  was  beam- 


IN     SCllool..  73 

ing  with  the  consciousness  of  having  acted 
rightly.  ' '  I  ought  to  go  down,  and  I  almost 
know  John  would  have  spelt  it  right." 

John's  moral  sense  was  not  very  acute, 
usually ;  but  there  is  something  contagious 
in  a  right  action.  Leonard's  honest  avowal 
had  affected  every  scholar  in  the  class,  and 
each  of  them  was  now  more  likely  to  do 
right  in  consequence  of  it.  So  John  said, 
very  modestly, — 

"  I  think  I  could  have  spelt  it,  but  I 
don't  care  about  going  up.  May-be  I 
should  have  missed  it." 

But  Leonard  had  already  moved  to  ex- 
change places  with  him,  and  Miss  Brace 
allowed  the  exchange  to  be  made. 

"I  am  a  little  doubtful  of  the  propriety 
of  it,"  she  said;  "but  one  thing  is  certain: 
Leonard  is  much  happier  in  being  No.  3 
with  a  clear  conscience,  than  No.  2  with  a 
guilty  one ;  and  John  deserves  some  reward 
for  his  unusual  industry.  He  has  studied 
so  faithfully  to-day  he  ought  to  be  able  to 
spell  every  word  correctly." 


74  IX    SCHOOL. 

Leonard  and  John  both  looked  a  little 
shy,  as  some  boys  are  apt  to  do  when 
praised,  but  both  went  to  their  seats  with 
beaming  faces.  When  the  time  came  for 
distributing  the  tickets  (always  an  event 
of  great  interest),  Miss  Brace  held  them  a 
moment  in  her  hand,  and  said, — 

"I  take  particular  pleasure  to-night  in 
giving  one  of  you  a  ticket  for  good  beha- 
viour, because  he  has  shown  himself  too 
honest  to  deceive  me  when  he  might  have 
done  it  without  being  detected/' 

She  then  called  on  Leonard  to  come  for- 
ward, who  did  so,  and  received  the  ticket 
with  a  deep  blush,  while  all  the  school 
gazed  at  him  with  admiring  eyes  and 
wished  themselves  in  his  place.  Miss  Brace 
glanced  at  the  earnest  faces  on  the  seats 
before  her,  and  added,  with  much  emo- 
tion,— 

"  How  I  wish  I  could  impress  one  lesson 
upon  all  my  pupils,  and  impress  it  so 
strongly  that  you  could  never  forget  it! 
and  that  is,  never  to  act  on  false  pretences  ; 


IN    SCHOOL.  75 

never  to  deceive  in  any  way.  Children  are 
apt  to  think  that  to  deceive  by  their  actions 
is  not  so  bad  as  to  tell  a  direct  lie ;  but  the 
sin  is  the  same  in  God's  sight.  The  guilt 
of  lying  consists  in  the  deception  practised; 
and  if  you  deceive  others  by  keeping  silent, 
it  is  just  as  wrong  as  to  deceive  them  by 
speaking  falsely.  I  want  you  all  to  abhor 
what  is  false  in  every  shape, — false  words, 
false  acts,  false  looks. 

"Oh,  if  all  of  you  would  grow  up  into 
truthful,  honest  men  and  women,"  she 
added,  with  her  cheek  glowing  and  her 
eye  beaming,  "  and  go  out  into  the  world 
too  high-minded  ever  to  equivocate,  or  ever 
to  occupy  false  positions,  or  ever  to  keep 
what  does  not  rightfully  belong  to  you, 
what  noble  men  and  women  you  would 
make!  You  would  then  be  blessings  to 
the  world,  and  such  men  and  women  as  all 
good  beings  would  honour  and  God  him- 
self approve!" 

Susan  Lee  was  desired  to  remain,  as 
Miss  Brace  wished  to  impress  on  her  mind 


76  A    LIGHT    HEART. 

more  clearly  the  evils  of  prompting,  and 
in  that  way  tempting  another  scholar  to 
act  a  falsehood. 

Had  any  one  told  Leonard  Roberts  in  the 
morning  that  when  he  came  over  that  road 
at  night  John  Hall  would  be  above  him  in 
his  class,  and  that  instead  of  being  mise- 
rable about  it  he  would  feel  more  light- 
hearted  than  usual,  he  would  have  said  it 
was  impossible :  yet  so  it  was.  With  that 
little  ticket  buttoned  into  his  jacket-pocket, 
to  be  shown  to  his  mother  and  grandfather, 
and  that  consciousness  of  having  done  right 
lying  warm  at  his  heart,  he  was  a  happy 
boy ;  and  neither  he  nor  John  once  thought 
of  the  butternuts  when  they  went  by  the 
place. 

"I  say,  ain't  Miss  Brace  prime?"  ex- 
claimed John.  "When  a  fellow  tries  to 
do,  she  always  knows  it.  But  I  did  feel 
kind  of  mean  going  up  above  you;  that's 
a  fact!" 

''You  needn't,"  answered  Leonard, 
cheerily.     "I  don't  feel  one  bit  bad  about 


ONE    STEP.  77 

it,  and  I  hope  you'll  get  the  medal, — I  do 
really,  John ;  though  I  tell  you  I  mean  to 
study  as  hard  as  I  can,  so  that  if  you  miss 
I  can  just  step  into  your  place.  That's 
fair!" 

11  So  'tis  !"  said  John  ;  and  they  parted 
the  best  of  friends. 

Did  Leonard  remember  that  he  had 
taken  one  step  that  day  towards  becoming 
a  true  patriot  ?  Probably  not ;  but  it  was 
none  the  less  true  that  he  had. 

7* 


78.  THE    FISHING-PARTY. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    FISHING-PARTY. 

John  Hall  kept  his  place  through  the 
next  day,  and  at  night  had  the  satisfaction 
of  wearing  home  the.  medal.  It  was  a 
satisfaction,  though  he  pretended  to  care 
nothing  about  it,  and  even  tucked  it  out 
of  sight  on  the  way  home,  saying,  "  He 
couldn't  be  bothered  with  having  that 
thing  right  in  his  way  all  the  time." 
John  was  a  peculiar  boy,  with  an  odd 
mixture  of  shyness  and  boldness,  pride  and 
sensitiveness,  in  his  composition  ;  and  he 
was  very  ambitious,  withal,  in  a  certain 
way. 

As  they  were  going  home,  he  laid  before 
Leonard  a  magnificent  plan  for  the  next 
Saturday  afternoon.  This  was  nothing 
less   than   a   trout-fry.     Three    boys,  two 


THE    FISHING-PARTY.  79 

of  tlieni  cousins  of  bis,  were  coming:  over 
from  a  neighbouring  town  to  spend  the 
day.  They  were  older  than  himself,  and 
wished  to  fish  in  the  streams  of  Woodlee; 
and  John  proposed  to  ask  Leonard  and 
Nathan  Joy  to  accompany  them,  and  to 
have  a  grand  frolic.  A  trout- fry  answers 
to  a  clam-bake,  only  changing  the  clams 
to  trout, — the  sandy  beach,  with  its  dashing 
salt  waves,  to  a  green  meadow  with  a  rip- 
pling brook  running  through  it, — and  the 
baking  to  frying.  There  is  the  same  fresh, 
out-of-door  enjoyment  and  abandonment 
to  the  pleasure  of  the  moment  in  both,  the 
same  keen  appetite,  and  the  same  mirth- 
provoking  deficiency  of  cooking  and  table 
utensils  of  all  kinds. 

The  boys  of  Woodlee  were  all  accus- 
tomed to  fishing  ;  for  a  clear  trout-stream 
ran  about  among  its  hills,  called  the  Brook, 
or  sometimes  Willow  Brook,  probably  be- 
cause  there  were  some  dwarf- willows  over- 
hanging it  just  below  the  village.  But 
they  had  always  brought  their  fish  home 


80  GOING    TO    MILL. 

in  a  string,  to  be  cooked  by  their  mothers; 
for  a  trout-fry  was  an  enjoyment  indulged 
in  only  by  grown  pleasure-seekers,  and 
seldom  by  them,  unless  when  visitors  came 
to  the  place,  in  whose  honour  little  fishing- 
parties  were  sometimes  made  up. 

The  more  John  and  Leonard  talked 
over  the  project,  the  more  feasible  and 
delightful  it  looked  to  them.  There  waq 
one  drawback, — a  doubt  whether  Leonard's 
father  would  consent  to  his  going.  On 
Saturday  afternoons,  the  only  half-holiday 
then  given  in  schools,  Leonard  frequently 
went  to  mill ;  and  he  expected  to  be  obliged 
to  go  the  coming  Saturday.  He  usually 
liked  this,  for  it  gave  him  a  ride  of  three 
miles  in  which  he  drove  himself.  He 
liked  to  drive;  and  he  liked  also  to  saun- 
ter round  the  mill,  watching  the  grain  as 
it  went  into  the  hopper,  or  the  water  pour- 
ing over  the  dam,  or,  as  sometimes  hap- 
pened, having  conversation  with  the 
miller  and  his  sons,  who  always  helped 
him  to  unload,  and,  when  his  grist  was 


A    MURMUR.  81 

ground,  to  load  up  again,  and  who  on  such 
occasions  often  praised  him  as  "a  smart 
young  fellow  who  could  give  a  stout  lift." 
But,  pleasant  as  all  this  was  in  ordinary 
times,  it  was  nothing  to  a  trout-fry. 

11  Can't  you  put  it  off  one  Saturday?" 
he  asked,  eagerly.  "Next  week  I  shan't 
have  to  go  to  mill." 

"No,  because  Tom  and  Harry  won't  be 
here  again  all  summer.  They're  coming 
over  on  purpose  to  go  a  fishing." 

"  I  almost  know  I  shall  have  to  go  to 
mill ;  everybody  else  is  busy,  and  I  heard 
father  say  to-day  the  meal  was  just  gone." 

"I'm  glad  I  don't  have  to  work  so  hard 
as  you  do,"  said  John :  "you  are  always 
doing  chores  till  dark,  and  you  never  get 
any  time  for  fun." 

"I  know  it,"  said  Leonard,  dolefully, 
"I  wish  we  weren't  so  poor;  but  we  are  : 
so  there's  no  help  for  it!" 

"Well,  I  hope  something  will  turn  up 
so  you  can  go  Saturday.  We  shall  have 
a  splendid  time.     Mother  says  we  may 


82  A   MURMUR. 

carry  the  large  spider,  and  have  as  much 
pork  as  we  want,  and  a  pie  or  two  besides. 
Yes,  we  shall  have  a  first-rate  time,  I'm 
sure  of  that!" 

Leonard  sighed  again;  and,  after  part- 
ing with  John,  he  walked  on  slowly, 
thinking  of  the  hardships  of  his  lot.  Yes, 
he  always  did  have  to  work.  After  he 
got  home  from  school,  there  was  weeding 
in  the  garden,  and  errands  to  be  done ; 
then  he  must  go  to  the  pasture  for  the 
cows  ;  then  milk,  and  split  up  kindlings, 
and  bring  in  wood  and  water.  John  Hall 
could  go  down  to  the  Centre  every  night 
and  play  ball  with  the  down-town  boys, 
while  he  had  to  run  his  feet  off  for  every- 
body. The  more  he  thought  of  it,  the 
harder  his  lot  seemed,  and  the  more  he 
pitied  himself  on  account  of  it ;  and  he 
exclaimed, — 

"I  wonder  why  some  folks  always  have 
to  work  like  slaves  all  their  lives  long, 
while  others  grow  up  gentlemen  and 
never  have  to  lift  a  finger?" 


THE    OLD    PROBLEM.  83 

It  is  an  old  question,  Leonard, — one 
asked  centuries  ago,  and  which  has  been 
repeated  by  every  generation  since,  and 
yet  is  no  nearer  being  solved.  So  you 
need  not  vex  your  brain  with  it,  but,  like 
a  stout,  brave-hearted  boy  as  you  are,  just 
learn  to  submit  to  what  is  inevitable,  and 
get  all  the  enjoyment  you  can  out  of  the 
life  God  has  given  you, — a  life  which  you 
may  make  a  rich  and  noble  one  in  spite 
of  all  its  hardships,  if  you  do  not  get  a 
habit  of  grumbling  over  them. 

"I  wonder,"  he  continued  to  himself, 
"what  we  need  to  be  so  in  debt  for?  I 
never  can  have  any  thing  I  want,  nor 
father  nor  mother  either,  because  that 
debt  must  be  paid!" 

Yet  the  thought  of  his  parents  labour- 
ing on  so  patiently,  day  after  day,  softened 
his  feelings,  and  he  could  not  feel  sorry 
that  he  was  able  to  do  a  little  something 
to  help  them. 

Ah,  if  the  boy  who  was  walking  along 
that    shaded    road  that    night  with   bare 


84  SYMPATHY. 

feet  and  stout,  vigorous  frame  could  only 
have  had  the  veil  lifted,  and  looked  on 
life  as  perhaps  the  watching  angels  view 
it  from  their  serene  abodes,  would  he  not 
have  seen  that  this  very  habit  of  daily 
toil  was  a  blessed  safeguard  from  a  thou- 
sand sorer  evils?  Would  he  not  have 
found  that  this  very  necessity  of  exerting 
himself  for  others  was  making  him  more 
manly,  more  like  Him  who  came  not  to 
be  ministered  unto,  but  to  minister?  But 
of  course  he  could  not  see  this ;  for  many 
tilings  are  hidden  from  the  eyes  of  both 
boys  and  men. 

Arrived  at  home,  Leonard  told  his 
mother  of  John's  delightful  plans,  and  of 
his  wishes  and  fears.  It  was  then  only 
Wednesday: — did  she  think  he  could  go? 

"I  wish  you  could,  with  all  my  heart," 
she  answered,  "but  I  am  afraid  the  men 
will  all  be  too  busy  to  go  to  mill :  so  that 
if  the  meal  is  wanted  you  will  have  to  go 
for  it.  You  must  do  all  you  can  to  help 
along,  you  know,  Leonard." 


A    NEW    PLAN.  85 


"But  it's  hard  I  can't  ever  have  a  play- 
day  I"  ,  .    ... 

"A  great  many  things  in  tins  life  are 
hard,"  said  his  mother;  and,  with  this  not 
very' consoling  reflection,  she  sent  him  out 
to  split  up  kindlings  to  boil  the  tea-kett le. 

Mary  Roberts  could  usually  see  the 
silver  lining  to  each  cloud;  but  that  night 
she  was  very  tired,  and  not  in  a  hopeful 
mood  herself.  Poor  woman  !  She  wanted 
her  children  to  enjoy  themselves,  and  often 
sighed  to  think  they  had  so  few  opportu- 

"  Can't  I  drive  over  to  the  mill,  mother?" 
asked  Mabel.  "The  white-faced  horse  is 
pretty  steady." 

"  You!"  exclaimed  Lucy.  "  You  d  look 
grandly,  driving  a  load  of  bags  through 

the  street!"  _ 

"I  don't  care  for  the  looks,"  said  Mabel ; 
"  that  is,  not  much  ;  and  I  do  care  a  great 
deal  to  have  Leonard  go.  He  never  goes 
berrying,  or  fishing,  or  any  thing  else,  as 
the  other  boys  do ;  and  he's  such  a  dear, 


86  A    NEW    PLAN. 

good  boy,  and  so  willing  to  do  all  we  want 
him  to  do  !  I  sha'n't  mind  the  looks  : 
the  bags  will  be  in  the  bottom  of  the 
wagon,  and  the  men  at  the  mill  will  un- 
load them  for  me." 

"I  hardly  think  your  father  will  be 
willing  you  should  drive  over,"  said  her 
mother.  "He  won't  think  it's  of  much 
consequence  whether  Leonard  goes  or  not." 

"I  think  father  is  a  great  deal  too  strict 
with  Leonard,"  said  Lucy.  "He  never 
lets  him  go  from  home,  not  even  to  play 
ball  with  the  other  boys." 

Mrs.  Roberts  herself  thought  her  hus- 
band erred  on  the  side  of  strictness ;  but  it 
did  not  suit  her  ideas  of  propriety  to  have 
her  youngest  daughter  pertly  criticizing 
his  mode  of  government. 

"He  does  what  he  thinks  is  best  for 
Leonard,"  she  answered;  "he  doesn't  like 
to  have  him  playing  with  all  kinds  of  boys, 
and  there  are  some  down  town  from  whom 
he  wouldn't  learn  any  thing  good." 

"Yes,"  said  Mabel,  "  there's  Nat  Rowe 


A    LESSON. 


87 


and  Jim  Baker  are  dreadfully  profane.     I 
shouldn't  want  him  to  go  with  them." 

"  He  is  so  fond  of  a  book  when  he  gets 
time  to  sit  down,"  said  his  mother,  "  that 
he  isn't  lonesome.  Then,  too,  he  likes  to 
hear  grandfather's  stories  about  the  sea; 
and  Sydney  is  a  great  deal  of  company 
for  him.  After  all,"  she  added,  her  lace 
brightening,  "  I  dare  say  he  enjoys  him- 
self as  well  as  most  boys;  and  he's  learn- 
ing lessons  that  will  be  of  use  to  him  all 
his  life.  It  isn't  the  boys  that  are  always 
indulged  and  know  nothing  about  hard- 
ships that  make  the  finest  men."  Mabel 
was  ready  to  acknowledge  this. 

"  The  very  necessity  for  making  sacri- 
fices," continued  the  mother,  "brings  a 
certain  kind  of  pleasure  with  it.  You  are 
happier  this  moment,  Mabel,  because  you 
are  willing  to  lay  aside  a  bit  of  foolish 
pride  for  Leonard's  sake." 

"  Yes,  I  am  always  happier  when  I  give 
up  any  thing  for  him,  or  you  either,  dear 


88  A    LESSON. 

mother.  I  wish  I  could  learn  to  be  always 
unselfish.  ' 

"You  arc  learning  it  constantly,  my  dear 
girl,  and  arc  more  and  more  a  comfort  to 
me  every  day  of  your  life.  Our  life  seems 
a  hard  one,"  she  said,  after  a  little  pau-«-, 
"yet  it  has  a  good  deal  of  brightness  in  it: 
sometimes  I  think  those  who  can  have  all 
they  want  without  any  trouble,  lose  a  good 
deal  of  enjoyment.  How  much  satisfac- 
tion we  take  in  planning  how  to  bring 
things  round  just  right,  saving  here  and 
contriving  there,  so  as  to  secure  some  plea- 
sure we  couldn't  otherwise  enjoy!  Yes,  \ 
really  believe  we  are  happier  even  for  oui 
self-denials,  and  for  having  to  make  sacri- 
fices for  one  another." 

"I  suppose  we  are ;  but  it  doesn't  seem 
at  all  pleasant  at  the  time,"  said  Mabel. 

111  No  affliction  for  the  time  seemeth  joy- 
ous, but  grievous.'  It  wouldn't  be  a  sacri- 
fice if  it  didn't  cost  something  ;  and  just 
in  proportion  to  the  pain  is  the  pleasure 
that  comes  after." 


A    LESSON; 


8? 


»I  don't  like  to  give  up,"  said  Lucy. 
••  If  I  have  to,  I  doj  but  I  don't  enjoy 
doing  it,  first  or  last."  , 

A  little  sigh  escaped  from  the  mother  s 
heart.  She  was  afraid  it  was  really  so, 
and  that  her  youngest  and  fairest  daughter 
had  never  yet  learned  the  delight  of  volun- 
tarily relinquishing  her  own  ease  or  enjoy- 
ment for  the  sake  of  others. 

"  If  you   do   it  because   you   must,  ot 
course  there  is  no  pleasure  in  it,"  she  said. 
"  It  is  in  choosing  to  make  a  sacrifice  for 
another  that  we  find  a  higher  joy  than  m 

P°  WhenMr.  Roberts  had  finished  his  day's 
work,  and  sat  by  his  back  door  resting  him- 
self, his  wife  spoke  to  him  about  Leonard  s 
plans  and  wishes,  and  of  Mabels  offer  to 

Jo  to  mill  in  his  place.  As  she  had  ex- 
pected, he  rejected  the  latter  proposal  at 

one©  ,  -■ 

"Send  a  girl  to  mill,  mdeed!  that  would 

be  a  strange  way  of  doing  things.  Id  quite 
as  soon  Leonard  should  keep  away  from  all 

c  :•- 


90  A    HOPEFUL    REFLECTION. 

such  parties.  There's  no  good  in  boys  run- 
ning round  all  the  time.  Leonard  has  got 
to  work  for  a  living;  and  the  sooner  he 
learns  to  attend  to  business  and  let  other 
tilings  alone,  the  better.'" 

He  evidently  had  no  faith  in  the  pro- 
verb that  "All  work  and  no  play  makes 
Jack  a  dull  boy."  Mrs.  Roberts  sighed, 
but  she  knew  her  husband  too  well  to 
attempt  to  argue  the  subject  with  him. 
So,  saying  to  herself,  "It  is  only  Wednes- 
day, and  before  Saturday  something  may 
happen  to  change  his  mind,"  she  went  out 
and  strained  the  foaming  pails  of  milk 
which  had  just  been  brought  into  the 
sweet,  clean  pantry. 


THE    DECISION.  91 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    DECISION. 

'  Good  news !"  shouted  John  Hall,  when 
he  saw  Leonard  coming  down  the  hill  the 
next  morning.  "The  water  has  broken 
through  the  dam,  so  they  can't  grind  there 
for  a  week  or  more.     Aren't  you  glad?" 

11  Yes,  indeed,"  cried  Leonard,  throwing 
his  hat  up  into  the  air,  exultingly ;  "  now 
I  can  go  fishing  Saturday.     Hurrah/" 

It  seemed  like  a  special  interposition  of 
Providence  in  his  behalf,  and  he  did  not 
trouble  himself  to  remember  that  it  might 
bring  great  inconvenience  to  others.  No 
lad  accustomed  to  holiday  excursions  can 
have  any  idea  how  desirable  and  delightful 
this  little  pleasure-party  looked  to  Leonard. 
If  he  had  few  pleasures,  they  were  all  the 
brighter  when  they  came ;  and  the  prospect 


92  HOPE    REVIVED. 

of  this  one  made  all  study  easier  to  him 
that  day,  and  all  play  merrier. 

Leonard  kept  his  place  ;  and  so  he  wore 
the  medal  home  proudly  and  joyfully.  He 
was  indeed  a  happy  boy  that  night !  His 
mother  and  Mabel  sympathized  with  his 
joy  and  his  hopes, — though  the  former  said 
she  was  afraid  it  would  be  inconvenient  to 
many  families  to  have  the  mill  stopped, 
and  prove  a  great  loss  to  the  miller  him- 
self. But  Leonard  only  thought  of  the 
pleasure  in  store  for  him  the  next  Satur- 
day. His  usually  cool  head  was  quite 
turned  by  it,  and  he  teased  his  mother  by 
perpetually  questioning  her  about  the  wea- 
ther, and  what  he  might  carry  for  his  share 
of  the  great  entertainment. 

Friday  night  at  last  came.  "  It  will  be 
cloudy  to-morrow,  I  guess,  and  so  much 
the  better,"  said  Leonard  to  John,  as  they 
came  home  from  school :  "  the  trout  will 
bite  all  the  sharper.  We'll  go  first  to 
Burnall's  pond.     Nobody  has  fished  there 


HOPE    BLASTED.  93 

lately,  and  there'll  be  lots  of  trout  there; 
and  we  can  cook  them  in  the  old  woods." 

"Old  woods"  was  the  name  given  to  a 
beautiful  strip  of  forest  which  skirted  the 
pond,  where  the  trees  had  stood  untouched 
for  a  century ;  and  it  was  the  most  delight- 
ful place  imaginable  for  a  picnic,  with  its 
deep  shade  and  soft  carpet  of  matted 
leaves. 

Just  at  this  point,  Susan  Lee  rushed  up 
in  breathless  haste,  exclaiming,  "The  mill 
is  running  again.    Do  you  hear,  Leonard?" 

11  No,  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it,"  he 
answered,  indignantly.  "Sawyer  said  it 
would  take  ten  days  to  start  it." 

"But  it  is,"  persisted  Susan.  "I  heard 
Deacon  Harris  say  so  just  now.  He  called 
out  to  Roswell  Pease  and  told  him,  and 
said  he  was  going  to  carry  over  some  grain 
to-night." 

But  Leonard  had  too  strong  reasons  for 
not  believing,  to  credit  any  such  testimony. 
"It's  just  a  girl's  story,"  he  said,  contempt- 


94  HOPE    BLASTED. 

uously.  "Why,  John,  it  can't  be  running 
yet?" 

"I  guess  not,"  said  John,  evasively.  The 
truth  was,  he  had  heard  in  the  morning 
that  the  mill  was  running,  but  he  chose 
to  keep  Leonard  in  ignorance  of  the  fact. 

A  little  farther  on,  they  met  Sawyer,  one 
of  the  workmen  at  the  mill,  coming  towards 
them  in  a  wagon.  He  would  know  the 
true  state  of  things  there. 

11  The  mill  isn't  running  yet,  Mr.  Sawyer, 
is  it?"  asked  Leonard,  anxiously. 

''Yes,  we  got  it  a-going  again  last  night. 
The  foundation  wasn't  washed  away:  so 
we  stopped  up  the  hole  a  good  deal  quicker 
than  we  expected."  And  he  rode  along  as 
if  he  had  conveyed  the  most  pleasant  piece 
of  intelligence.  Leonard  was  confounded : 
he  felt  as  if  a  great  stone  had  fallen  on  his 
heart,  crushing  out  all  its  hopes. 

"I  hope  you'll  believe  the  next  time 
you  hear  a  girl's  story,"  was  Susan  Lee's 
parting  observation,  as  she  turned  into  the 
path  that  led  towards  her  home. 


A    BAD    SUGGESTION.  95 

11  It's  too  bad!"  said  Leonard.  "  Now  T 
shall  have  to  go  to  mill  to-morrow.  I 
know  I  shall;  for  father  said  this  morning 
he  didn't  see  how  he  could  get  along  with- 
out having  some  grinding  done.  I  never 
can  have  any  fun  !"  he  added,  bitterly. 

"It's  a  shame,  I  declare!"  said  John. 
"I  wouldn't  go  an  inch,  let  who  would  tell 
me  to." 

Leonard  had  been  too  well  trained  to 
habits  of  obedience  to  think  of  opposing 
his  father's  commands,  but  he  felt  bitterly 
injured. 

11  I'll  tell  you  what  'tis,"  said  John,  con- 
solingly :  "your  father  won't  know  the 
mill  is  going.  He's  been  working  all  the 
morning  among  his  hay,  and  hasn't  seen 
anybody  to  tell  him,  I  know.  Do  you  just 
keep  whist,  and  he'll  never  be  the  wiser." 

"I  don't  think  he's  heard  of  it,"  said 
Leonard.  It  was  a  pleasant  idea ;  but,  after 
a  moment's  satisfaction  in  it,  he  said,  "But 
I  don't  think  it  will  be  quite  fair  not  to 
tell  him,  John." 


96  A    TEMPTATION. 

"Why,  what  a  fuss  5-011  always  make 
about  being  fair!  What's  the  harm,  I 
should  like  to  know?  If  'twaa  telling  a 
lie,  it  would  be  a  different  thing;  but  hold- 
ing your  tongue  can't  be  a  sin,  I'm  sure." 

"Perhaps  it  isn't,"  said  Leonard,  for  he 
wanted  to  think  there  wasn't  any  harm  in 
it.  So  they  went  on  planning  about  the 
excursion  the  same  as  before  ;  and  John's 
last  words  were,  "  Be  sure  and  bring  plenty 
of  bait,  and  all  your  hooks." 

If  there  was  a  question  in  Leonard's 
mind,  of  the  propriety  of  concealing  the 
fact  from  his  father,  he  put  it  down  by 
thinking  he  couldn't  fall  back  from  the 
party  now.  He  had  said  he  would  go,  and 
he  must  go. 

"  How  lucky  it  is  Sydney  didn't  come  to 
school  to-day!"  thought  he,  as  he  walked 
on.      "He  would  have  been  sure  to  tell." 

Leonard  didn't  feel  quite  easy  in  his 
mind,  for  he  was  afraid  somebody  might 
have  given  the  information  ;  but  he  soon 
found  bv  the  conversation  of  his  mother 


THE    TEMPTATION.  97 

and  sisters  that  they  were  still  in  ignorance, 
and  congratulated  himself  greatly  on  the 

fact. 

Why  was  it  that  Leonard  did  not  go 

about  his  work  that  night  with  quite  so 

light  a  heart  as  usual,— that  his  bread- 

and-milk  had  a  less  keen  relish,— that  he 

started  when  anybody  spoke  suddenly,  as 

if  afraid  he   was   going  to  be   exposed? 

Leonard's  nature  and  training  had  made 

it  far  easier  for  him  to  be  frank  than  to 

conceal  a  thing;   and  his  secret  hung  like 

a  heavy  weight  on  his  spirits.     If  it  had 

been  any  common  sacrifice  demanded  ol  • 

him,  he  would  have  made  it  ;  but  to  give 

up  this  pleasure,  so  long  looked  forward 

to  and   coveted,   and  which  he  probably 

would  never  have  another  chance  to  enjoy, 

it  was  too   much;  and  over  and  over 

again  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  split  up  his 
kindlings,  "There  can't  be  any  harm  in 
just  keeping  still.  I  don't  tell  any  false- 
hood." 

Boys  accustomed  to  evasions  and  con- 


98  THE   TEMPTATION. 

eealments  might  never  Lave  tLougLt  of 
any  harm  in  one  of  this  kind;  but  in  the 
atmosphere  of  the  red  house,  and  in  the 
light  of  his  mother's  example,  Leonard's 
conscience  had  become  very  tender,  and 
averse  to  any  thing  not  thoroughly  open 
and  upright. 

After  tea,  Leonard  went  for  his  cows,  as 
usual.  The  pasture  was  half  a  mile  dis- 
tant, and  the  way  to  it  was  through  a 
wood  in  which  there  was  only  a  narrow 
path  trodden  by  the  cows.  As  he  walked 
through  this  dense  pine  woods,  Leonard 
became  thoughtful.  It  seemed  as  if  a 
voice  spoke  to  him,  saying,  "You  are 
deceiving,  Leonard  ;  you  know  you  are !" 
Whence  could  that  voice  have  come? 
From  those  dark  pines  which  shot  up  so 
tall  and  straight  towards  the  sky?  Xo  : 
they  were  perfectly  motionless;  and 
though  a  soft,  sweet,  spirit-like  whisper 
stole  through  their  branches,  it  was  not 
that  he  heard.  From  the  shining  hea- 
vens    above     him ?       Xo :     there     were 


THE    TEMPTATION.  99 

bright  patches  of  soft  blue  visible  far 
away  beyond  the  pines,  and  they  looked 
smilingly  down  at  him,  but  it  was  not 
they  who  spoke.  From  the  little  brook, 
which  went  trickling  on  its  way  like  a 
thread  of  silver,  gurgling  over  the  mossy 
stones,  and  then  dipping  with  a  musical 
tinkle  into  the  grassy  hollow  ?  No :  its 
song  was  most  wonderful  and  sweet,  but 
it  was  not  that  he  heard.  It  was  a  voice 
in  his  own  breast, — the  voice  of  conscience, 
— the  voice  of  God  !  It  startled  him  at 
first,  and,  when  he  attempted  to  silence  it 
by  saying  he  was  telling  no  falsehood,  he 
heard'  it  sounding  clearer  yet,  and  uttering 
Miss  Brace's  very  words,  ''The  guilt  of 
lying  is  in  the  deception  used  ;  and  if  you 
deceive  by  keeping  silent,  it  is  just  as 
wrong  as  if  you  deceived  by  speaking 
falsely."  Leonard  felt  indignant.  He 
would  not  be  kept  from  his  enjoyment 
to-morrow ;  that  he  was  determined  on  ; 
right  or  wrong,  he  would  go  to  that  fish- 
ing-party !    and  he  trod    fiercely   on    the 


100  THE    CONFLICT. 

withered  leaves.  Then  he  caught  up  a 
stone  and  aimed  it  at  a  harmless  little 
squirrel  that  was  skipping  up  a  tree.  Ada 
it  happened,  it  did  not  hurt  the  pretty, 
bright-eyed  creature ;  but  it  was  no  thanks 
to  him.  But  all  did  not  silence  the  voice 
within.  Its  tones  rose  up  strong  and  dis- 
tinct above  all  other  sounds.  "  You  are 
deceiving,"  it  said,  sternly;  "you  are 
gaining  a  selfish  gratification  under  false 
pretences  !" 

The  true  nature  of  his  conduct  was 
thus  clearly  revealed  to  Leonard  :  it  now 
remained  for  him  to  decide  whether  he 
would  persist  in  it.  He  must  now  fight 
one  of  those  battles  so  often  fought  in 
human  hearts, — a  battle  between  inclina- 
tion and  duty,  between  right  and  wrong. 
Silent,  unheard-of  conflicts  are  these,  but 
often  as  fierce  and  desperate  as  if  waged 
by  armed  men  at  the  cannon's  mouth. 

His  desire  to  go  was  strong,  passion- 
ately strong,  and  it  pleaded  stoutly  for  the 
victory ;    but,    on    the    other    hand,    con- 


He  caught  up  a  stone  and  aimed  it  at  a  harmless  little  squirrel 
that  was  skipping  up  a  tree."  p.  100. 


THE    CONFLICT.  101 

science  also  contended  manfully  for  the 
right.  To  deceive  was  mean  ;  to  obtain 
a  pleasure  through  false  pretences  was 
cowardly  and  unmanly.  To  go  home  and 
tell  his  father  that  the  mill  was  running, 
and  abide  the  consequences,  was  a  straight- 
forward, upright  course  ;  not  to  tell  him, 
was  to  play  a  false  part  and  to  deceive 
intentionally.     Which  should  he  do  ? 

It  was  a  hard  struggle  in  the  boy's 
heart ;  and  it  was  far  from  being  ended 
when  he  emerged  from  the  wood  into  the 
open  ground.  It  was  a  broken,  stony 
region,  and  he  sat  down  on  a  huge  flat 
rock  to  decide  the  question.  It  was  not 
Leonard's  way  to  flinch  from  trouble,  or 
to  put  off  what  was  disagreeable :  he  always 
faced  the  worst,  and  had  things  settled  as 
soon  as  possible. 

"  This  is  a  very  little  thing,"  you  may 
say:  ''nothing  is  at  stake  but  a  school- 
boy's half-day  frolic.  It  is  of  no  particu- 
lar consequence  whether  he  goes  or  stays." 
But  it  was  of  consequence, — not  the  thing 


102  THE    CONFLICT. 

itself,  but  the  principle  involved.  A  series 
of  such  decisions  as  these  by  the  boy 
make  the  habits  of  the  man, — habits 
which,  once  fixed,  it  is  wellnigh  impos- 
sible to  overcome.  If  Leonard  now  yield 
to  this  temptation  to  deviate  from  a  strictly 
straightforward  course,  he  may  become  a 
man  of  shifts  and  artifices  and  conceal- 
ments; if  he  overcome  it,  his  moral  nature 
will  be  strengthened,  and  he  will  be  far 
more  likely  to  make  a  thoroughly  honest, 
upright,  truthful  man.  So  it  may  be  that 
as  the  boy  sits  there  in  his  patched,  home- 
spun clothes,  a  torn  straw  hat  on  his  head, 
and  his  bare  feet  dangling  from  the  rock, 
breaking  up  the  hickory  switch  in  his 
hand,  the  angels  are  looking  on  to  see 
what  he  will  decide  ;  or,  if  not  angels,  we 
know  the  great  God  is  watching  him. 
His  omniscient  eye  sees  all  the  conse- 
quences of  each  act,  and  He  is  never  an 
indifferent  spectator  of  such  a  conflict  in 
a  human  heart. 

Leonard  had  left  home  later  than  usual, 


THE    VICTORY.  103 

and  the  shadows  had  gathered  over  the 
grim  hills;  the  last  note  of  the  wood-bird 
was  quivering  through  the  silence,  and  the 
lowing  of  the  cows  at  the  bars  told  him  it 
was  time  for  them  to  be  released.  Still 
the  boy  sat  lost  in  thought,  pushing  his 
toes  in  and  out  of  a  crevice  in  the  rock  at 
his  feet.  But  all  at  once  he  jumped  down 
quickly,  gave  one  look  at  the  darkening 
sky,  and  rushed  towards  the  bars,  letting 
them  down  hastily. 

"No,  I  won't  do  it!  I'll  be  honest 
through  and  through,  as  grandfather  says." 

But,  for  all  that,  as  he  walked  home- 
ward, stroking  the  sides  of  his  favourite 
heifer,  a  gush  of  hot  tears  poured  down  his 
cheeks.  It  was  not  easy  to  give  up  his  che- 
rished pleasure,  and  its  promised  delights 
rose  up  before  him  all  the  brighter  now 
that  they  were  beyond  his  reach.  Beneath 
the  sobs  and  the  regret  lay  the  conscious- 
ness of  having  done  right,  which  helped 
him  to  bear  the  disappointment ;  but,  in 
spite  of  that,  it  was  a  grievous  disappoint- 


104  THE    VICTORY. 

men t,  and  he  was  making  sacrifice 

for  what  he  believed  to  be  true  and  right. 

Bear  it  bravely,  my  boy!  You  have 
taken  a  great  step  towards  making  your- 
self, for  all  coming  time,  an  honest  man, 
yea,  more,  an  honourable  man.  whose  soul 
shall  scorn  all  deceptions  and  conceal- 
ments, and  cling  to  the  truth, — the  pure, 
unvarnished,  holy  truth,  which  God  loves, 
and  in  which  all  holy  beings  in  the  uni- 
verse delight. 

When  Leonard  reached  the  gate,  his 
father  was  standing  by  it.  "Did  you 
know  the  mill  was  running  again,  father?" 
he  asked. 

"Yes,  I  heard  so,"'  was  the  laconic 
answer. 

11  It  would  have  done  no  good  if  I  had 
tried  to  conceal  it,"  was  Leonard's  first 
thought;  and  he  was  very  glad  he  had 
not  tried. 

"Shall  you  want  me  to  go  to  mill  to- 
morrow afternoon?"  was  his  next  question. 

"Yes." 


THE    VICTORY.  105 

That  one  short  monosyllable  settled 
Leonard's  fate  so  far  as  the  fishing-party 
was  concerned.  Had  the  father  the  slight- 
est idea  that  his  son's  soul  had  been  stirred 
to  its  very  depths  by  a  conflict  between 
good  and  evil?  Probably  not;  for  George 
W.  Roberts  was  one  of  those  men  who,  up- 
right and  exemplary  in  all  the  business  of 
life,  seem  to  utterly  forget  that  they  were 
ever  boys,  and  who  never  show  the  slightest 
sympathy  with  the  trials  or  joys  of  their 
children.  Leonard  never  spoke  of  it  to 
any  one  :  probably  he  never  was  aware 
himself  that  he  had  fought  a  battle  and 
come  off  conqueror ;  yet  it  was  written 
down  in  God's  book  of  remembrance  in 
imperishable  lines, — 

— "the  conflict,  and  the  victory  too." 

John  was  not  at  school  Saturday  fore- 
noon r  he  stayed  at  home  to  welcome  his 
friends,  and  was  so  much  engrossed  by 
them,  that  when  Leonard  stopped  on  his 
way  home  to  tell  him  he  could  not  go,  he 


106  SYMPATHY. 

showed  little  surprise  or  grief.  So  no  one 
but  himself  felt  the  disappointment ;  but 
he  felt  it  keenly;  and,  as  he  walked 
homeward,  it  was  all  he  could  do  to  keep 
back  the  hot  tears.  And  when  he  saw 
the  whole  party,  soon  after,  driving  by 
with  their  fishing-rods  and  baskets,  look- 
ing so  merry  and  gay,  he  gazed  sorrow- 
fully after  them  till  they  were  quite  out 
of  sight,  saying,  bitterly,  "I  wish  I  could 
ever  go,  as  other  boys  do,  and  have  a  good 
time!" 

About  two  o'clock  that  afternoon,  Leon- 
ard might  be  seen  driving  along  that  self- 
same road  with  his  load  of  grain,  on  his 
way  to  the  mill. 

"How  I  pity  him!"  said  Mabel,  as  he 
drove  out  of  the  yard.  "I  did  so  want  he 
should  go  a-fishing." 

''Yes,  I  wish  he  could  have  gone,"  said 
his  mother,  with  a  sigh. 

Shall  we  pity  him,  gentle  reader  ?  We 
are  greatly  inclined  to;  but  perhaps  if  we 
could  read  his  future,  and  see  how  this 


DISCIPLINE.  107 

and  similar  hardships  made  a  man  of  him, 
—a  self-relying,  truthful,  courageous  man, 
who  was  never  afraid  to  do  right,  never 
afraid  of  a  little  hardship,  never  afraid  of 
standing  up  fearlessly  for  what  he  believed 
the  truth,— we  should  rather  congratulate 
him.     The  rough  wind  that    shakes  the 
little  sapling  pitilessly  only  roots  it  firmer 
in  the  soil,  and  gives  it  strength  to  shoot 
up  into  those  fair  and  symmetrical  propor- 
tions which  the  tenant  of  the  sunny  and 
sheltered  enclosure  can  never  reach.     Let 
us  not  fear,  then,  to  trust  our  young  friend 
to  the  stern  discipline  of  his  life  among 
the  hills.     Perhaps  our  pity  might  better 
be    reserved    for  those  whose  wishes  are 
all    gratified,   and  who    are    not   learning 
to   control  themselves   or  to  bear   disap- 
pointments bravely.     To  them  the  future 
may  very  likely  bring  the  severest  burdens. 
Leonard  had  a  cool,  breezy  ride  to  the 
mill,  and  a  pleasant  chat  with  the  good- 
natured    miller.     When    he    returned    at 
night,  his  mother  and  sisters  had  set  the 


108  REWARD. 

table  in  the  yard,  and,  as  a  little  treat, 
bad  baked  him  a  strawberry  short-cake, 
his  favourite  delicacy.  And  Mabel  and 
Lucy  had  put  on  their  pink-calico  dree 
in  honor  of  the  picnic,  as  they  called  it, 
and  had  trimmed  the  table  with  flowers 
from  their  garden,  arranging  every  thing 
as  prettily  as  they  knew  how.  Little 
Sydney  was  enchanted  at  finding  his  plate 
encircled  with  a  tiny  wreath  of  myrtle- 
leaves  and  rose-buds,  and  it  was  all  a  very 
delightful  surprise  to  Leonard.  The  little 
repast  went  off  very  merrily;  and  loud 
shouts  of  laughter  might  have  been  heard 
by  any  passer-by,  showing  how  cheaply 
and  easily  young  hearts  may  be  made 
happy. 

As  Leonard  was  going  to  his  little  attic 
chamber  that  night,  his  mother  laid  her 
hand  tenderly  on  his  head.  "You  are  a 
good  boy,  Leonard,"  she  said,  "and  a 
great  help  and  comfort  to  me;"  and  he 
saw  a  tear  was  in  her  eye. 

Mrs.  Roberts  never  lavished  praises  on 


REWARD.  109 

her  children ;  and  that  one  short  commend- 
ation sent  Leonard  to  his  bed  with  a  glow- 
ing cheek  and  grateful  heart.  Yes,  with 
his  mother's  blessing  resting  on  him,  and 
wT  th  the  approbation  of  his  own  con- 
science, he  was  a  happy  boy  that  night, — 
even  though  he  had  been  sadly  disap- 
pointed, and  had  been  to  no  pleasure- 
party,  like  other  boys. 

We  think,  too,  that  Leonard  had  now 
taken  another  step  towards  becoming  a 
true  patriot.  We  may  be  confident  that 
the  boy  who  could  be  thus  true  to  his 
parents,  and  true  to  his  conscience,  will 
never  be  disloyal  to  his  country  in  after- 
years.  Loyal  to  parents,  loyal  to  country, 
loyal  to  God, — this  is  the  threefold  loyalty 
which  must  constitute  a  Christian  patriot ; 
and  such  seeds  sown  in  youth  will  surely 

spring  up  and  in  time  bear  glorious  fruit. 
10 


110   SUNDAY  IN  THE  RED  HOUSE. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

SUNDAY    IN    THE    RED    HOUSE. 

The  next  day  was  one  of  those  bright, 
beautiful  Sundays  in  which  earth,  air  and 
sky  seem  to  unite  in  bringing  a  Sabbath 
stillness  and  purity  into  human  souls. 
Sunday  was  kept  in  the  good  old-fash- 
ioned way  at  the  red  house ;  and  so  perfect 
was  the  stillness  on  this  summer  morning 
that  the  ticking  of  the  clock  in  the  kitcheD 
and  the  occasional  cackle  of  a  hen  in  the 
yard  sounded  strangely  loud  and  shrill. 
Every  corner  of  the  cottage  had  been  put 
in  exact  order.  The  parents  were  sitting 
quietly,  each  by  a  window,  reading  the 
Bible,  or  some  religious  book;  while  the 
daughters  studied  their  Sunday-school  les- 
sons. The  mother  had  just  heard  Leon- 
ard and  Sydney  repeat  their  lessons,  fur 


SUNDAY    PLEASURES.  HI 

even  the  latter  belonged  to  a  class,  and 
regularly  committed  a  few  verses  from  the 
Testament  to  repeat  to  his  teacher.  Grand- 
father sat  in  a  large  arm-chair  by  the  open 
door,  and  the  two  boys  had  seated  them- 
selves on  the  door-steps  close  by. 

"Now  show  me  the  ark,  grandfather," 
said  Sydney,  whose  Sunday  privilege  it 
was  to  look  at  the  pictures  in  the  great 
Bible.  The  rude  wood-cut,  intended  to 
represent  the  flood,  had  a  long  boat  with 
a  roof  over  it,  at  the  door  of  which  stood 
a  man  with  his  hand  stretched  out  to  take 
in  a  dove  that  was  flying  in  the  distance. 

"Noah  was  such  a  good  man, God  didn't 
let  him  be  drowned,"  said  Sydney.  "Was 
the  dove  a  good  dove  too,  grandfather?" 

"Doves  can't  be  good,"  exclaimed  Leon- 
ard:  "they  haven't  got  any  souls!" 

"But  doves  are  good,"  said  Sydney: 
"ain't  they,  grandfather?" 

"Not  good  in  the  same  sense  that  boys 
and  girls  are,  for  they  don't  know  right 


112  SUNDAY    PRIVILEGES. 

from  wrong;  but  they  are  gentle  and  sweet- 
tempered,  because  God  made  them  so." 

"Is  that  such  a  ship  as  you  used  to  sail 
in?"  said  Sydney. 

"No,  indeed:  that  was  a  great  tall  ship, 
with  spars  and  masts, — a  full-rigged 
whaler/'  answered  his  grandfather. 

"Did  you  ever  see  a  whale  swallow  a 
man  up  alive,  grandfather?"  was  the 
child's  next  inquiry;  for  he  was  a  persist- 
ent questioner. 

"No:  we  hadn't  any  Jonahs  aboard,  I 
reckon,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  laughing. 

"Now  show  me  Moses  in  the  bulrushes." 
After  gazing  some  time,  he  said,  "He  was 
a  pretty  baby:  wa'n't  he,  grandfather?" 

"Yes,  and  he  grew  up  a  first-rate  man," 
said  Leonard. 

"So  he  did, — -just  such  a  man  as  God 
loved  and  blessed ;  and  so  he  made  him  a 
great  captain  over  the  army  of  the  Israel- 
ites to  lead  them  out  of  the  land  of  bond- 


age. 


Did  they  fight,  grandfather?' 


SUNDAY    PRIVILEGES.  113 

"Oh,  yes,  indeed,  a  great  many  battles; 
and  God  gave  them  the  victory,  because 
they  were  his  own  chosen  people.  "Some- 
times they  were  few  in  number,  and  their 
enemies  numerous  and  powerful ;  but  God 
was  their  leader,  and  he  can  subdue  all 
the  hosts  of  the  wicked  when  he  pleases : 
so  he  brought  them  to  the  promised  land." 

"Now  show  me  Daniel  and  the  lions." 
This  was  Sydney's  favourite  picture.  The 
crouching  attitude  of  the  beasts  just  ready 
for  a  spring,  their  shaggy  heads,  with  their 
wide-open  mouths  and  white  teeth,  were 
very  impressive ;  and  over  and  over  grand- 
father had  been  asked  to  tell  him  the 
story. 

41  Didn't  he  feel  afraid  when  he  heard 
the  lions  roar?" 

"I  guess  not,  because  he  was  so  sure 

God  would  take   care  of   him.     He  had 

seen  how  his  three  friends  came  safe  out 

of  the  fiery  furnace,  and  I  dare  say  he  felt 

safe  too;   'cause  he  knew  he  was  a  doin 
10* 


114  A    GOOD    LESSON. 

right.  A  man  may  allers  feel  safe  when 
he's  a  doin'  his  duty." 

"Daniel  was  pretty  bold,"  said  Leon- 
ard, "or  he  wouldn't  have  dared  to  kneel 
down  three  times  a  day  with  all  his 
windows  open,  after  the  king  had  said  he 
would  put  any  man  into  the  lion's  den 
who  prayed  to  God." 

"Yes,"  said  their  grandfather,  "Daniel 
never  was  afraid  to  do  his  duty.  When 
lie  was  first  brought  before  the  king  (and 
thru  he  must  have  been  quite  young), 
the  Bible  says,  'he  would  not  defile  him- 
self with  the  portion  of  the  king's  meat, 
nor  wdth  the  wine  which  he  drank.'  He 
didn't  begin  life  with  doin'  wrong  for  fear 
he  should  be  laughed  at;  and,  as  I've  said 
afore,  begin  right  when  you  re  boys,  if  you 
icartt  to  come  out  right  when  you  re  men. 
Habits  are  amazin'  powerful  things  ;  and 
afore  you  know  it,  they're  coiled  up  all 
round  you  so  tight  and  fast  you  can't  get 
away  from  'em." 

"/mean  to  begin  right,"  said  Leonard, 


GOOD    DOCTRINE.  115 

complacently,  "I  am  going  to  always  tell 
llie  truth,  and  to  stand  up  for  what  is  right. 
Some  boys  think  it's  foolish  to  be  so  par- 
ticular ;  but  Miss  Brace  says  everybody 
should  be  honest,  even  in  their  looks." 

"That's  good  doctrine,"  said  the  old  gen- 
tleman. "I  guess  Miss  Brace  is  the  right 
kind  of  a  schoolma'am.  But  you  won't 
allers  find  it's  so  easy  to  do  exactly  right 
as  you  think,  Leonard :  you'll  come  to 
some  tough  places  where  you'll  be  hard 
pushed,  and  where  the  way  will  be  all 
hedged  up  before  you." 

"But  nobody  can  make  me  do  wrong, 
if  I  don't  choose  to." 

"That  is  true ;  but  that's  just  where  the 
trouble  is.  Human  natur'  is  a  curi's  thing, 
— a  dreadful  unsartin  thing.  A  man  makes 
up  his  mind  exactly  what  he'll  do,  and 
then,  when  he's  the  surest  he's  goin'  to  do 
it,  like  as  not  he  goes  and  does  exactly 
what  he  didn't  mean  to.  Now,  he  ain't 
forced  to  do  it  agin  his  will,  but  his  will 
itself  shifts  about :  he  chooses  to  do  right 


116  THE    CAPTAIN'S    COUNSEL. 

one  minute,  and  the  next  minute  some 
temptation  comes,  and  he  chooses  to  do 
wrong." 

"Yes,"  he  added,  musingly,  "it  ain't 
easy  to  allers  do  what  we  ought  to,  and 
none  of  us  get  through  this  world  without 
findin'  out  we  are  poor  weak  critturs  and 
need  a  deal  of  help.  What  was  it  made 
Daniel  so  full  of  courage?  Because  he 
prayed  to  God  to  help  him ;  and  God  did 
help  him.  'Tain't  likely,  boys,  you'll  ever 
have  to  go  into  a  den  of  lions ;  but  if  you 
live  you'll  come  to  places  where  you'll 
have  to  either  commit  a  sin  or  face  some- 
thing about  as  terrible  as  a  roarin'  lion. 
Nobody  travels  to  heaven  through  such  a 
world  as  this  without  havin'  to  fight  his 
way.  I  shall  be  dead  and  gone  then ;  but 
remember  your  old  grandfather  told  you 
never  to  be  afraid  of  any  thing  but  doin' 
wrong.  Allers  keep  up  a  good  heart  if 
you  are  doin'  right ;  and  when  you  come 
to  a  tight  place,  ask  God  to  carry  you 
through  it,  and  go  forward  and  do  your 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    COUNSEL.  117 

duty  like  a  man.  (Joel  will  be  just  as  near 
to  you  as  he  was  to  Daniel,  and  just  as 
ready  to  help  you,  if  you  only  call  on  him. 
You  can't  keep  yourself  in  the  right  path 
a  single  day,  but  he  can  allers  keep  you, 
in  this  world  and  in  the  world  to  come. 
I'm  an  old  man  now,  but  I  put  myself  into 
the  Lord's  keepin'  when  I  was  a  boy,  and 
he's  never  failed  me,  and  he  never  will.  I 
shall  go  out  of  this  world  pretty  soon,  but 
I  can't  go  where  he  won't  be  there  to  take 
care  of  me.  He's  kept  me  safe  for  over 
seventy  years,  in  storm  and  calm,  in  battle 
and  shipwreck,  on  the  sea  and  on  the  land, 
and  I  ain't  none  afraid  to  trust  him  a  little 
longer.  Yes,"  he  said,  raising  his  eyes 
reverently  to  the  serene  heavens,  "'I  know 
whom  I  have  believed,  and  am  persuaded 
that  He  is  able  to  keep  that  which  I  have 
committed  to  him  against  that  day.' ' 

At  nine  o'clock  the  old  church-bell  rang 
out  sweet  and  clear  over  all  the  hills,  in- 
viting old  and  young  to  the  house  of  prayer. 
Then  each  member  of  the  family  went  to 


118  GOING    To    WOB   HIP. 

his  room  to  put  On  the  clean  Sunday  suit 
which  the  careful  mother  had  in  readiness : 
the  horse  was  harnessed  to  the  two-seated 
wagon,  the  slight  lunch,  of  crackers  and 
doughnuts,  was  rolled  up  and  by  ten  o'clock 
all  were  ready  to  leave  the  house.  The 
doors  and  windows  were  carefully  closed, — 
for  fear  of  showers,  not  of  thieves  ;  for  the 
cottages  stood  all  over  those  lonely  hills,* 
gleaming  out  here  and  there  in  the  soft 
sunshine  of  that  summer  morning,  and 
each  was  left  unlocked  without  a  thought 
of  danger,  though  all  were  tenantless  save 
where  some  aged  person  too  infirm  or  some 
child  too  young  to  go  to  church  remained 
behind. 

Grandfather  drove,  and  the  mother, 
daughters  and  little  Sydney  rode,  while 
the  father  and  Leonard  walked  on  ahead. 
Thej,  and  indeed  most  of  the  congregation, 
who  came  from  still  greater  distances,  stayed 
through  the  short  intermission  at  noon,  the 
younger  and  middle-aged  persons  going 
into  the  Sunday-school,  while  the  elderly 


SI'NDAY    AT    HOME.  119 

ones  sat  in  the  porch  or  on  the  steps,  or 
wandered  out  into  the  graveyard  close  by, 
talking  in  subdued  tones  to  one  another. 
At  one,  the  afternoon  bell  summoned  them 
to  their  pews  again,  and  by  half-past  two 
they  were  all  on  their  way  home.  It  was 
a  pretty  sight  to  see  the  long  rows  of 
wagons  winding  up  the  steep  hills  which 
rose  in  each  direction  from  the  little  green 
on  which  the  church  stood,  and  watch 
them  separating  at  the  different  turnings 
of  the  road,  each  to  seek  a  quiet  dwelling 
among  the  hills.  All  the  air  was  hushed, 
and  full  of  such  sweet  repose  as  only  can 
be  found  on  a  bright  Sabbath  afternoon, 
when  God  seems  to  draw  visibly  nearer  to 
the  world  he  has  created  than  on  other 
days,  and  bathe  it  in  light  and  joy. 

Mrs.  Roberts,  as  was  the  custom  then 
and  is  now  in  such  scattered  towns,  had 
her  principal  meal  about  four  o'clock  on 
Sunday  afternoon.  Something  a  little  nicer 
than  usual  was  then  prepared,  though 
always  something  which  had  been  mostly 


120  STJKDAY    AT    HOME. 

cooked  the  day  before,  and  so  required 
little  labour  on  the  Sabbath,  save  the 
boiling  of  the  tea-kettle  for  the  cup  of 
strong  tea  then  so  popular  in  New  England 
farm-houses.  The  long  fast  insured  a  keen 
appetite,  and  they  all  (especially  the  chil- 
dren) greatly  enjoyed  this  Sunday  dinner, 
or  supper,  as  they  called  it.  Some  might 
be  inclined  to  frown  on  this  indulgence  as 
unsuited  to  the  day.  Xot  so  Mary  Roberts. 
She  wanted  Sunday  to  be  a  cheerful  and 
pleasant  day  to  her  family,  and  thought 
there  was  no  harm  in  the  temperate  enjoy- 
ment of  a  nice,  simple  meal.  Was  it  not 
God's  gift,  and,  though  a  lesser  blessing 
than  the  spiritual  food  bestowed  on  that 
day,  still  a  blessing,  to  be  gratefully  re- 
ceived and  enjoyed  with  glad  hearts? 

After  this  meal  there  came  a  long  in- 
terval before  dark.  Mrs.  Roberts  knew 
this  interval  was  in  too  many  households 
one  of  tedious  yawning,  or  anxious  watch- 
ing for  the  disappearance  of  the  sun  ;  and 
she  had  tried  to  make  it  to  her  children 


SUNDAY    AT    HOME.  121 

one  of  the  happiest  of  the  week.  It  was 
almost  the  only  time  in  her  busy  life  when 
she  could  gather  her  children  around  her, 
and  her  face  was  never  so  bright,  so 
beaming  with  tenderness  and  love,  as 
when  she  sat  down  with  them  all  about 
her  for  a  Sunday-afternoon  talk.  Her  face 
never  looked  gloomy  when  she  spoke  of 
Jesus  and  heaven,  but  lighted  up  into  a 
sweet  radiance  at  the  thought  of  that  Friend 
and  that  home  so  precious  to  her  soul. 
Bible-stories  in  her  language  became  sweet 
and  attractive  to  her  children,  and  that 
quiet,  beautiful  Sabbath  twilight  was  the 
sweetest  hour  of  the  week  to  even  the 
youngest  of  them.  The  "  best  room,"  sel- 
dom used  during  the  week,  was  always 
opened  then,  and  the  family  assembled  in 
it.  It  was  a  very  nice-looking,  pleasant 
apartment,  with  its  fringed  white  curtains, 
and  woodbine  creepers  shading  the  win- 
dows, and  not  in  the  least  stiff  and 
gloomy,  as  "best  rooms"  sometimes  are. 

The  children's  books  and  pictures  were  all 
•  ji 


122  THE    CABINET?. 

kept  there,  and  on  Sundays  there  were 
alwavs  vases  of  flowers  on  the  table  and 
mantel-shelf  in  summer,  and  of  the  beau- 
tiful evergreen  laurel  in  winter,  giving  the 
room  a  cheery  look.  To  be  sure,  there  was 
only  a  home-made  carpet  on  the  floor,  and 
plain  chairs  and  tabic,  and  a  calico-covered 
lounge,  also  of  home  manufacture ;  but 
each  article  was  as  pleasing  to  the  eyes  of 
those  simply-trained  children  as  if  made 
of  rosewood  and  damask.  The  most  no- 
ticeable thing  in  this  little  room  was  a 
cabinet  of  shells  and  other  foreign  curi- 
osities. It  had  been  brought  on  his  return- 
voyage  from  the  Pacific  islands  years 
by  Captain  Roberts  to  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren. There  were  shells  of  all  Bizes,  forms 
and  colours  in  it  with  ostrich-eggs,  feathers 
of  brilliant  hues,  curious  girdles  of  cocoa- 
nut-leaves,  and  little  sandal-wood  boxes 
and  screens,  with  some  hideous  little  idols 
of  stone  and  wood.  The  tropical  odour  of 
the  sandal-wood  could  be  perceived  the 
moment  you  entered  the  room,  and  it  would 


a  mother's  lessons.  123 

doubtless  through  life  be  associated  with 
Sunday  afternoons  in  the  minds  of  the 
children,  however  widely  they  might  wan- 
der from  the  old  red  house. 

These  curiosities  were  an  unfailing  source 
of  entertainment  to  the  children,  and  many 
a  sweet  lesson  of  God's  love  and  care  had 
they  helped  the  mother  to  impress  on  their 
tender  minds.     There  was  a  vein  of  poetry 
slumbering  in  Mary  Roberts's  soul ;  and 
when  the  children  held  those  beautifully 
spotted  sea-shells  to  their  ear,  listening  to 
that  mysterious  swell  of  the  ocean-waves 
which  seemed  to  be  still  lingering  within 
them,  or  looked  at  the  plumage  of  some 
rare  tropical  bird,  she  told  them  many  a 
sweet,  thrilling  story  of  the  sea,  and  the 
lonely  islands  that  lie  upon  it;  and,  quick- 
ened by  the  magic  power  of  her  voice  and 
eye,  these   stories  became  links  to  bind 
their    souls   in  a   closer   union   to   nature 
and  nature's  God ;  for  she  had  the  rare  art 
to  make  each  story  teach  some  lesson  of 
faitli  in  God  or  love  to  man.     Grandfather 


124  A    HAPPY    SUNDAY. 

too,  had  stories  to  tell  them, — sometimes 
from  the  Bible  and  sometimes  from  his 
own  experience.  And  when  the  daughters 
grew  older,  they  each,  like  their  mother, 
had  a  sweet  voice  for  singing ;  and  this  was 
an  added  Sunday  pleasure,  in  which  even 
their  father  joined  with  his  full  bass  notes. 
No,  Sunday  was  never  a  dull  day  in  Mr. 
Roberts's  house,  nor  was  it  ever  a  day  like 
other  days  ;  but  it  was  set  apart  and  con- 
secrated by  far  holier  thoughts  and  purer 
pleasures  than  marked  the  other  six. 


SUNDAY    EVENING.  125 


CHAPTER  IX. 

SUNDAY    EVENING. 

The  sun  had  set  in  cloudless  splendour, 
and  a  bright  new  moon  now  showed  her 
silver  crescent  in  the  west ;  but  the  air  was 
so  soft  and  balmy  that  the  grandfather, 
the  mother  and  Leonard  still  lingered  at 
the  open  door.  Sydney  had  been  put  to 
bed.  Mr.  Roberts  had  himself  gone  for  the 
cows  that  night,  and  milked  them ;  and 
Mabel  and  Lucy  were  attending  to  strain- 
ing the  milk,  and  other  necessary  duties, 
in  the  kitchen ;  while  the  three  sat  quietly 
at  the  door,  watching  the  stars  as  they 

"  Came  twinkling  one  by  one 
Upon  the  shady  sky." 

To  one  accustomed  to  the  life  of  a  large 

town  or  city,  the  "silence  that  was  on  the 

lonely  hills"  at  this  hour  would  have  been 
11* 


126  SUNDAY    EVENING. 

oppressive ;  but  it  was  not  so  to  those  quiet 
watchers.  To  their  eyes,  every  feature  in 
the  landscape  was  familiar ;  each  outline 
of  the  dusky  hills,  each  tree  that  stood  up 
against  the  sky  in  the  distance  like  some 
shadowy  giant,  each  rounded  hillock,  and 
even  each  bush  and  rock  and  tuft  of  wild 
flowers,  was  something  pleasant  to  their 
eyes,  and  wore  a  friendly  look.  They  were 
familiar,  too,  writh  that  wide  sweep  of  the 
heavens  above,  and  knew  where  to  look 
for  each  different  group  of  stars,  though 
ignorant  of  the  names  science  has  given 
to  them.  To  the  old  sailor  especially,  who 
had  for  years  watched  them  from  the  deck 
of  his  vessel  as  it  ploughed  through  the 
foaming  billows,  they  were  full  of  inte- 
rest ;  for  they  had  been  his  guides  and  com- 
panions in  many  a  midnight  hour  when  he 
kept  watch  on  deck  amid  the  solitude  of 
the  vast  ocean  ;  and  he  gazed  at  them  now 
with  an  emotion  which  no  mere  landsman 
could  well  understand. 

' '  There   is   something   about   the   stars 


WATCH    ON    DECK. 


127 


which  allers  makes  a  body  serious,"   he 
said,  breaking  a  long  silence.     "  When  I 
fust  went  to  sea,  I  was  as  thoughtless  a 
chap  as  ever  lived.     But  when  it  came  my 
turn  to  take  the  watch,  and  I  used  to  lay 
on  deck,  seein'  nothing  round  me  but  the 
dark  water  below,  and  the  great  sky  above, 
full  of  shinin'   stars,  curi's  ideas  used  to 
come  into  my  head.     I  wondered  if  God's 
eye  wa'n't  up  there  among  the  stars,  lookin 
straight  down  into  my  soul ;    and  all  the 
things  my  mother  had  told  me  about  God, 
and  heaven,  and  hell,  would  rise  up  before 
me  and  make  me  tremble.     When  I  lay 
there  in  the  clear,  still  nights,  alone  out 
on  the  great  ocean,  I  felt  as  if  God  was 
somehow  nearer  to  me  than  on  the  land  ; 
but  I  was  afraid  of  him,  and  didn't  like  to 
think  about  him.    The  second  time  I  sailed, 
there  was  a  young  lad  aboard, — a  kind  of 
weakly  boy  he  was, — who'd  been  sent  on 
the  voyage  for  his  health.     We  was  on  a 
fishin'-smack  then,  bound  for  the   Great 
Banks,  to  get  cod.     This  lad— mabbe  he 


128  GILBERT    WATSON. 

was  sixteen  or  seventeen  years  of  age — 
used  sometimes  to  sit  in  one  corner  by  him- 
self and  read  his  Bible.  He  was  most 
allers  brisk  and  lively  and  full  of  fun,  for 
all  he  looked  so  sickly  ;  but  once  in  a  while 
he  seemed  sad  and  homesick.  One  day  he 
told  me  how  he  had  a  mother  who  was  a 
widow,  and  how  he  was  her  only  child. 
'And  I'm  afraid,'  says  he,  'that  if  any 
thing  was  to  happen  to  me  it  would  almost 
break  her  heart,' 

"I  didn't  wonder;  for  he  had  such  a 
takin'  way  with  him,  that  all  on  board 
loved  him  and  would  do  any  thing  in  the 
world  to  please  him.  He  liked  to  talk  to 
us  boys,  and  took  a  deal  of  interest  in 
seein'  how  we  fixed  our  lines  and  bait  to 
fish  with.  It  was  all  kind  o'  new  to  him ; 
and  he'd  ask  the  drollest  questions  you 
ever  heerd,  for  he  was  dreadful  ignorant 
about  all  such  things.  Sometimes  Gilbert 
(Gilbert  Watson  was  his  name)  would 
come  and  sit  on  deck  with  me  when  it  was 
so  hot  at  night  he  couldn't  sleep  below; 


A    NEW    THOUGHT.  129 

and  then  he  too  would  look  at  the  stars, 
and  tell  me  what  he'd  read  in  books  about 
'em,  and  how  some  of  em  was  great  worlds, 
a  great  deal  bigger  than  our  world,  and 
what  names  they  was  all  called  by;  for 
he  had  a  store  of  book-larnin',  though  he 
was  so  amazin'  ignorant  of  some  things; 
and  then  he  would  talk  to  me  as  good  and 
pious  as  any  minister. 

"  '  What  a  mighty  being  God  must  be,' 
he  said,  one  night,  '  to  make  all  these  great 
worlds,  and  keep  'em  all  a  movin  exactly 
right!  I  wonder  if  anybody  is  livin'  in 
them,  and,  if  there  is,  what  kind  of  folks 
they  are.'  'Torn,'  said  he,  looking  up  at 
me  with  his  great  bright  eyes,  'Torn,  per- 
haps we  shall  go  and  live  in  one  of  the 
stars  when  we  die  :  don't  you  think  we 
shall?'  Now,  I  was  a  great,  rough,  lub- 
berly boy,  strong  and  hearty,  and  I  didn't 
like  to  think  about  dyin',  any  way  :  so  I 
said,  'I  don't  know  nothin'  about  sich 
things.  What /think  about  is  how  I'm 
goin'  to  get  along  in  this  world,  and  where 


ISO  THE    SICK    LAD. 

I  shall  go,  and  what  I  shall  see.  I  mean 
to  live  to  be  a  captain/  says  I,  '  and  sail 
all  over  the  world,  before  I  die.'  I  can  see 
now  just  how  he  looked  when  I  said  that, 
as  well  as  if  he  stood  right  by  me  this 
very  minute.  He  was  sittin'  on  a  coil  of 
rope  that  lay  on  deck,  and  he  smiled  a 
little, — a  sort  of  sad  smile  it  was, — and 
says  he, — 

J('I  hope  you  will,  Tom;  but  I  don't 
expect  to  live  to  be  a  man.' 

"'Pshaw!  nonsense!'  says  I:  'don't  go 
to  bein'  vapoury  and  notional.  We  shall 
see  you  runnin'  up  to  the  mast-head  like 
a  cat,  yet.'  He'd  been  put  under  the 
cap'n's  care,  and  if  he  got  strong  he  was 
to  learn  how  to  handle  the  ropes  like  the 
other  boys.  But  he  shook  his  head.  'Xo, 
Tom,'  says  he,  quietly,  'I  don't  think  I 
shall  ever  see  home  again.'  It  made  me 
all  of  a  tremble  to  hear  him  say  that ;  but 
I  tried  to  laugh,  and  told  him  he  shouldn't 
be  thinkin'  of  such  a  thing.  He  didn't 
much  heed  what  I  said,  but  went  on  in 


THE    LAD'S    SERMON.  131 

his  quiet  way : — '  I  wouldn't  care  so  much 
if  it  wasn't  for  my  mother:  I  don't  feel 
afraid  to  die.'  I  tried  to  make  an  answer, 
but  I  couldn't;  for  there  was  something  a 
stickin'  in  my  throat.  '  No,  I'm  not  afraid 
to  die,  Tom,'  says  he,  'because  I  know 
God  can  take  care  of  me  in  another  world 
just  as  well  as  he  can  .in  this;  and  I  want 
you  should  trust  God  too,  Tom.  You 
don't  swear,  like  the  other  boys ;  and  I 
want  you  should  love  God  with  all  your 
heart,  and  serve  him.' 

'"I  don't  know  much  about  God,'  said 
I, — I  was  'most  a-cryin' ; — '  I  allers  feel 
afraid  to  think  much  about  him.' 

"'He  is  a  great  and  powerful  God,' 
said  he ;  '  and  if  he  hadn't  sent  Jesus  Christ 
into  the  world  to  save  us,  and  so  show 
how  much  he  loves  us,  we  might  all  be 
afraid  to  think  about  him  ;  but  Jesus  was 
all  love  and  kindness ;  and  he  is  the  very 
image  of  God ;  and  it  is  through  him  we" 
are  to  come  to  God  and  learn  what  God 
s.     He  died  to  save  us,  and  he  will  save 


132  the  lad's  bible. 

us  if  we  seek  him  and  believe  in  him. 
If  you  will  only  believe  in  Christ  and 
become  his  disciple,  then  you  need  not 
feel  afraid  to  live,  nor  afraid  to  die  either. 
Haven't  you  got  a  Bible,  Tom  V  he  asked. 

"'No,'  I  said;  'mother  guve  me  one, 
but  I've  lost  it.1 

"He  thought  a  minute,  ana  then  said, 
'  I(  any  thing  happens  to  me,  Tom,  I 
want  you  to  have  my  Bible,  and  to  read 
in  it  every  day.'  I  couldn't  nelp  crying 
when  he  said  this. 

"'Oh,  don't  cry,'  said  he,  smiling: 
"may -be  nothing  will  happen;  perhaps  I 
shall  grow  up  to  be  a  stout  and  healthy 
man  yet ;  but  you  must  read  the  Bible  all 
the  same,  Tom,  for  we  need  that  to  tell  us 
how  to  live,  as  well  as  how  to  die." 

"Pretty  soon  he  got  sleepy,  and  went 
down ;  but  the  next  day  he  brought  me  a 
little  Testament  he  took  from  the  purser's 
office. 

"Soon  after  this,  he  began  to  gain. 
He'd  more  colour  in  his  face,  and  didn't 


the  lad's  death.  133 

cough  so  hard  ;  and  when  we  got  to  the 
Banks  he  used  to  help  us  fish,  and  began 
to  look  real  tough  and  hearty ;  and  I  says 
to  myself,  '  Gilbert  will  be  as  well  as  any- 
body yet.'  So  it  went  on  for  some  weeks; 
but  when  we  turned  towards  home,  he 
seemed  to  droop  a  little.  One  night,  when 
we  was  a'most  home,  and  were  all  on  the 
look-out  for  land  ahead,  somebody  come  in 
the  middle  of  the  night  and  called  me  to 
go  down  to  the  cap'n's  room ;  and  there  I 
found  Gilbert  lyin',  just  as  white  as  a 
sheet,  and  lookin'  as  if  he  was  quite  dead. 
He  had  been  took  all  of  a  sudden  raisin' 
blood,  and  the  cap'n  had  carried  him 
down  to  his  own  room,  thinkin'  he'd  be 
more  comfortable  there.  He  opened  lain 
eyes  and  smiled  a  little  when  he  saw  me 
standin'  by  him,  but  he  couldn't  speak, 
and  pretty  soon  he  shut  'em  up  again,  and 
went  to  sleep.  He  never  opened  'em  after 
that,  but  just  lay  there  still  and  quiet  as 

a  baby,  breathin'  softly,  till  four  o'clock 
12 


134  THE    BLIP    OF    PAPER. 

the  next  afternoon,  when  his  breath  stopped, 
and  he  was  gone." 

The  old  man  paused,  and  wiped  a  tear 
from  his  eye. 

"  Yes,  he  was  gone  !  There  wa'n't  a 
man  among  us,  even  the  roughest,  swear- 
in'est  sailor  we  had  aboard,  but  shed  a 
jear  when  they  went  to  look  at  him,  he 
looked  so  beautiful  and  smilin',  lyin'  there 
as'.eep.  ' 

"Did  they  bury  him  in  the  ocean?" 
asked  Mrs.  Roberts,  softly. 

,;Xo:  we  got  sight  o'.  land  that  very 
mornin',  and  the  cap'n  said  he  would  try 
to  keep  him,  so  his  mother  could  have 
one  more  look  at  him.  They  put  all  his 
things  up  nicely,  and  in  his  Bible  they 
found  a  little  slip  of  paper,  on  which  was 
wrote,  'To  be  given  to  Tom,  who  I  know 
will  read  it  for  my  sake.'  The  cap'n 
brought  it  to  me  himself,  and  I  cried  jist 
like  a  baby  :  I  couldn't  help  it !  I've  got 
that  Bible  now,"  said  the  old  man,  wiping 
his  eyes,  "  and  that  bit  of  paper  is  still 


THE    CAPTAIN'S    THOUGHT?.  135 

a-lyin'  in  it.  I  never  failed  to  read  in't 
after  that,  if  it  wa'n't  but  a  single  verse. 
Sometimes  the  fellows  used  to  laugh  at 
me;  but  I  didn't  mind  'em,  for  I  could  see 
Gilbert's  pale  face  right  before  me,  and 
hear  him  sayin',  '  You  11  read  it  for  my 
sake.'  I  thank  God  I  parsevered  ;  for  out 
of  that  Bible  I  larnt  the  way  of  salva- 
tion, and  I  hope  God  has  given  me 
strength  to  walk  in  it  ever  since.  I  have 
wanted  it  to  live  by,  as  Gilbert  said ;  and 
now  I  can  say,  as  he  did  sixty  years  ago, 
sittin'  there  on  that  bunch  of  rope  away 
out  on  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  '  I  am  not  afraid 
to  die;  for  God  can  keep  me  in  another 
world  just  as  well  as  he  can  in  this.' 

"But,"  continued  the  old  man,  "I  never 
see  the  stars  shinin'  out  so  bright  and 
clear,  without  thinkin'  on  him.  Mabbe 
_e  is  livin'  up  among  'em,  as  he  said. 
Sometimes  I  used  to  think  he  was,  and  that 
he  could  look  down  and  see  me  when  I 
kept  watch  on  deck  such  still,  clear  nights 
as  this.     But  we  don't  know  where  the 


136  THE    BURIAL. 

sperit  goes:  we  only  know  God  makes  it 
one  of  the  happy,  rejoicin'  sperit s  round 
his  throne." 

' '  Did  you  ever  hear  from  his  poor 
mother?"  said  Mrs.  Roberts. 

"  Why, — it  was  very  strange,  but  when 
we  got  to  land  and  inquired  about  her,  we 
found  she  died  about  a  month  before  he 
did,  and  of  consumption  too.  He  told 
me  once  she  was  always  weakly.  The 
cap'n  went  on  himself  with  the  body,  and 
he  see  him  buried  in  the  little  graveyard, 
right  beside  his  mother.  He  said  he 
couldn't  help  rejoicin'  that  she  wasn't 
there  to  hear  about  his  death ;  for  she 
was  such  a  good  Christian  woman,  nobody 
doubted  she  had  gone  to  a  better  world  to 
neet  her  boy." 

"A  world  where  '  God  shall  wipe  away 
an  tears  from  their  eyes,  and  there  shall 
be  no  more  death,  neither  sorrow  nor  cry- 
ing,' "  said  Mrs.  Roberts,  softly. 

Leonard  had  not  spoken,  but  he  had 
listened    attentively    to    the    -ittle   narra- 


GIFT    TO    LEON. \ ED. 


137 


tive ;   and  now  he  went  silently  into   the 
house,  and  to  his  room.     Perhaps  he  too, 
when  he  looked  at  the  bright  stars,  would 
think  of  the  young  lad  who  had  watched 
them  so  long  ago  and  then  passed'  away 
to  be  with   God.     He   asked  his  grand- 
father, a  few  Sundays  afterwards,  to  show 
him  the  Bible  that  had  been  given  to  him  ; 
and  he  looked  very  thoughtfully  at  it,  and 
at  the  slip  of  paper,  now  yellow  and  worn 
with  age.     "  You  may  have  it  for  your 
own,  Leonard,"  said  his  grandfather;  "and 
may  the  God  who  blessed  that  dear  youth 
—the  God  of  your  fathers— be  your  God." 
He  turned  to  the  sixth  chapter  of  Num- 
bers, and  with  a  trembling  hand  drew  a 
line  beneath  the  words  which  God  com- 
manded Moses  to  give  to  Aaron  and  his 
sons  as  words  of  blessing  for  the  children 
of  Israel : — 

"The  Lord  bless  thee,  and  keep  thee, 
the  Lord  make  his  face  shine  upon  thee, 
and  be  gracious  unto  thee;   the  Lord  lift 


12* 


138  A    MEMEKTi 

up  hig  countenance  upon   thee,  and  give 
thee  peat 

"This  is  what  I  wish  for  you,  my  boy," 
he  said.  "Don't  lose  this  book;  and,  when 
you  look  at  it  in  comin'  years,  'twill  put 
you  in  mind  of  me,  and  of  him  who  owned 
it  first, — the  dear  young  lad  who  died  at 
sea. 


THE    TOWN-MEETING.  139 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE    TOWN-MEETING. 

The  leaves  which  shaded  Mr.  Roberts's 
house  through  the  summer-heats  brightened 
into  autumnal  tints,  and  then  were  swept 
away  by  the  fierce  north  winds,  till  the 
bare  trees  stood  shivering  in  the  November 
frosts.  The  harvests  had  all  been  gathered 
in,  and  a  time  of  comparative  leisure  was 
drawing  nigh.  The  first  Tuesday  of  No- 
vember was  town-meeting  day  in  Wood- 
lee, — indeed,  in  all  the  United  States  ;  for 
it  was  the  year  for  choosing  Presidential 
electors. '  There  had  been  an  unusually 
exciting  campaign  throughout  the  land, 
and  voters  were  expected  to  assemble 
in  full  force  in  every  city,  town  and 
village. 

"It's  such  a  windy  day,  I'm  afraid  you 


140  FIRST    r  RESIDENT. 

will  take  cold,"  said  Mrs.  Roberts,  when 
she  saw  grandfather  preparing  himself  to 

11  Pshaw!  I  ain't  so  far  gone  yet  that  I 
cant  stand  a  land-gale,"  answered  the  old 
gentleman,  somewhat  impatiently,  for  he 
had  an  old  man's  aversion  to  being  con- 
sidered feeble.  "  I've  voted  for  President 
nine  times,  and  I  must  try  the  tenth.  It's 
worth  something  to  have  tried  ten  times 
to  give  the  country  a  good  President,"  he 
added,  smiling. 

"Who  did  you  vote  for  first?"  asked 
Lucy. 

"  Who?  Why.  for  George  Washington, 
the  Lord  be  praised !  I  wish  we  had  a 
man  anions  us  now  I  could  feel  as  sure 
of  as  I  did  of  him ! ' ' 

"Everybody  liked  him,  I  suppose," 
said  Mabel. 

"No,  not  everybody.  Some  folks  at 
that  time  were  afraid  of  him,  and  afraid 
of  every  thing,  and  found  fault  with  every 
thing,  just   as   some   do   now.     You   see, 


A   GREAT   CHANGE.  141 

we'd  only  just  got  started  tl.en  ;  and  they 
couldn't  tell  exactly  how  the  Constitution 
was  goin'  to  work,  till  it  was  toed.    Some 
thought   it   gave    the    people   too    much 
liberty,  and  some  thought  it  didn  t  give 
•em  enough ;    and  the   fearful  ones  said 
we  should  drift  into  a  monarchy,  as  sure 
as  could  be.  We  was  a  small  nation  them 
-small  and  weak  too;  but  God  preserved 
us  among  all  the  tumults  and  commotions 
of  that  day,  and  now  we've  got  to  be  a 
great  and  prosperous  people      Our  rule:, 
^eed  a  deal  of  wisdom,  and  of  the  fear  ol 
God,  to  fit  'em  to  rule  such  a  nation  as 

we  are  now.  ,    ( 

John  Hall  had  stopped  for  Leonard;  tor 
of  course  all  the  boys  would  congregate  m 
the  centre  of  the  town  to  get  their  share 
of  excitement  on  election-day;  and  both 
were  in  high  spirits. 

"You  boys  think  it's  great  fun  to  go  to 
town-meetm'  now,"  said  the  grandfather; 
"but  one  of  these  days  you'll  have  to  make 
a  more  earnest  business  of  it.    Like  enough 


142  TNG    TO    VOTE. 

you'll  vote  a  dozen  times  for  President. 
Now,  I  charge  you  to  see  to  it  that  you 
allers  vote  for  a  man  who's  honest  and  true 
to  his  country,  who  fears  God  and  keeps 
his  commandments.  It's  a  great  thing  to 
choose  your  own  rulers ;  but,  if  you  choose 
bad  ones,  it's  a  curse,  instead  of  a  blessiiV, 
to  be  allowed  to  vote." 

Both  boys  assured  him  they  should 
always  vote  for  the  very  best  man  there 
was  in  the  whole  United  States.  Little 
did  they  dream  of  the  difficulties  which 
might  lie  in  the  way,  making  it  far  from 
easy  to  know  who  is  the  best  man  even 
among  rival  candidates,  or  to  vote  for  him 
when  known. 

They  rode  to  the  village  together, — the 
old  man,  his  son,  and  the  boys.  The  meeting 
was  held  in  the  church,  as  was  then  com- 
mon in  most  small  towns.  It  was  curious 
to  watch  those  independent  voters  as  they 
drove  up  by  wagon-loads  from  all  parts  of 
the  scattered  township,  every  man  coming 
who  could  possibly  hobble  from  the  wagon 


AT    THE    POLLS.  143 

to  the  door,  and  some  who  needed  help  to 
do  even  that.  All  were  excited  and  talk- 
ative ;  and  they  drew  off  in  little  groups 
as  their  political  affinities  united  them. 
Each  man's  mind  was  fully  made  up  as  to 
which  of  the  candidates  to  vote  for ;  for, 
however  the  uneducated  foreigners  who 
come  to  the  polls  in  our  large  cities  may 
be  influenced  by  motives  brought  to  bear 
upon  them  on  election-day,  there  was  not 
one  in  that  rural  town  but  had  heard  the 
merits  of  the  rival  candidates  discussed  in 
neighbourhood  gatherings,  in  village'  cau- 
cuses, as  well  as  in  the  newspapers,  till  he 
had  ideas  of  his  own  in  reference  to  the 
policy  which  would  be  adopted  by  each  of 
them,  and  had  formed  in  his  own  mind  a 
settled  preference  for  one  or  the  other  of 
them. 

To  a  thoughtful  observer,  few  sights  are 
more  deeply  interesting  than  that  of  a  body 
of  voters  assembled  in  town-meeting.  As 
they  stand  there,  some  of  them  coarsely — 
most  of  them  plainly — dressed,  with  faces 


144  VOTING. 

bronzed  by  exposure  and  hands  hardened 
by  toil,  he  cannot  but  remember  that  by 
these  and  such  as  these  the  destinies  of 
one  of  the  most  powerful  governments  in 
the  world  are  to  be  decided,  and  that 
according  as  they  are  true  or  false  to  the 
great  interests  of  freedom  will  this  great 
nation  preserve  or  lose  its  liberties.  How 
ardently  a  true  lover  of  his  country  longs 
to  inspire  each  of  these  voters  with  a  love 
of  justice,  a  devotion  to  freedom,  and  a 
proper  sense  of  his  responsibility !  Then, 
and  then  only,  could  he  feel  that  our  coun- 
try would  be  safe !  Oh,  if  ever  a  ma^n  should 
cleanse  his  soul  from  all  that  is  false,  mean 
and  degrading,  if  ever  he  should  have  clean 
hands  and  a  pure  heart,  ever  lift  on  high  a 
petition  for  Divine  guidance,  it  is  when  he 
goes  to  the  ballot-box ;  for  the  act  of  voting 
must  involve  either  good  or  evil  to  his 
whole  country,  now  and  in  the  future.  It 
is  a  proud  thing  to  be  able  to  vote  for  the 
Chief  Magistrate  of  these  United  States, 
and  a  man  has  a  right  to  hold  his  head 


VOTING.  145 

higher  and  to  tread  firmer  on  this  than  on 
other  days ;  but  it  is  also  a  very  solemn 
thing ;  for  each  individual  vote  affects  the 
grand  result  Think,  then,  of  your  respon- 
sibilities, ponder  them  seriously,  ye  whose 
prerogative  it  is  to  vote  ;  and  in  future 
may  God  help  you  to  vote  wisely,  uprightly 
and  in  his  most  holy  fear! 

Only  purify  your  hearts,  ye  who  go  to 
the  ballot-box,  and  make  your  hands  clean, 
and  you  will  soon  have  no  occasion  to  com- 
plain of  corruption  among  your  rulers ;  for 
your  rulers,  your  legislators,  and  all  your 
office-holders,  from  the  highest  to  the 
lowest,  are  of  just  the  stamp  you  ordain  ; 
and  if  they  are  faithless  to  their  trust,  you 
are  responsible  for  their  short-comings  ! 

The  clergyman  of  Woodlee  opened  the 
meeting  witli  prayer,  and  then  the  voting 
went  on  quietly,  the  polls  being  kept  open 
till  sundown,  as  by  law  provided.  Out- 
side, the  boys  were  somewhat  noisy,  having 
engaged  in  boisterous  sports  in  the  interval 
of  waiting;  but  the  older  population  were 

13 


146  THE    SUPPER. 

orderly  and  quiet.  Few  went  to  their 
homes  till  the  votes  were  counted ;  and  if 
there  followed  some  undue  exhilaration 
among  the  prevailing  party,  some  uproar- 
ious cheers  and  rough  joking,  to  the  honour 
of  Woodlee  be  it  spoken,  there  was  little 
of  intemperance  or  profaneness  on  this  day 
of  unbounded  license.  By  dark  all  had 
dispersed  to  their  homes,  save  a  dozen  or 
two  still  left  standing  on  the  village-green, 
and  a  dozen  or  two  more  in  the  bar-room 
of  the  little  inn. 

Mrs.  Roberts  had  a  hot  supper  ready  for 
the  voters  on  their  return  ;  for  she  knew 
some  neighbour  (as  they  called  those  living 
two  or  three  miles  farther  from  the  Centre) 
would  be  sure  to  drop  in  to  eat  with  them 
and  to  talk  over  the  events  of  the  day. 
And  so  it  proved.  Deacon  Price  and  neigh- 
bour Warren,  the  latter  as  old  as  Captain 
Roberts,  and,  like  him,  an  emigrant  from 
Eastern  Massachusetts  in  his  younger  days, 
stopped  to  partake  of  some  of  Mrs.  Roberts's 
stewed  chicken  and  hot  biscuits,  and  to  drink 


THE    LAST    VOTE.  147 

three  or  four  of  the  cups  which  "  cheer  but 
not  inebriate."  They  grew  lively  and  jolly 
under  the  combined  influence  of  good  fare 
and  good  company,  and  told  their  merriest 
anecdotes  and  longest  stories  as  they  sat 
around  the  blazing  fire,  while  the  November 
wind  whistled  unheeded  outside  the  little 
cottage- windows. 

Mrs.  Roberts  and  her  daughters,  each  of 
whom  read  the  papers  with  eagerness  and 
had  her  own  opinions  on  political  questions, 
listened  intently  to  their  conversation ;  and 
even  Sydney  was  allowed  to  sit  up  later 
than  usual,  to  enjoy  the  merriment.  But 
when  eight  o'clock  came,  the  two  guests 
departed :  the  family  circle  drew  closer 
around  the  fire,  and  by  degrees  their  con- 
versation took  a  graver  character. 

"I've  cast  my  last  vote  for  President," 
said  the  grandfather,  after  he  had  been 
silently  looking  into  a  bed  of  coals  for  some 
minutes.  "  Four  years  hence,  younger  folks 
will  have  to  do  the  votin'." 

"Oh.  perhaps  not,"  said  his  daughter. 


148  BAD    SIGN8. 

"You  are  very  active  yet,  and  younger 
now  than  most  men  at  sixty." 

"The  Lord  has  blessed  me  with  good 
health  all  my  life,  'tis  true ;  but  I'm  breakin' 
up,  Mary.  I  feel  it  sensibly,  of  late.  I 
don't  mean  to  be  anxious  about  the  future. 
The  Lord's  time  is  the  best  time,  and  in 
his  time  I  shall  go,  and  not  before.  But  I 
can't  help  tkinkin'  a  good  deal  about  the 
country,  George.  I  can't  help  feelin'  as 
though  there  was  risin'  up  among  us  a  bad 
set  of  notions.  Folks  are  gettin'  too  greedy 
for  office,  too  fond  of  change,  and  they  put 
men  into  office  that  ain't  fit  for  it ;  and 
there  ain't  the  reverence  felt  for  those  in 
authority  that  there  used  to  be  and  ought 
to  be." 

11  The  last  follows  from  the  first,  father," 
answered  George.  "How  can  we  respect 
such  men  as  hold  office  now?' 

"But  they  are  such  men  as  we  put  in 
ourselves,"  said  his  father. 

"I  know  that,"  said  George,  sharply, 
"and   that's   the  worst   of  it.     But   who 


WHAT    GOVERNS.  119 

believes  the  men  we  send  to  our  Legisla- 
ture now  are  fit  to  make  laws  for  us?" 

' '  And  if  we  send  men  to  make  laws  that 
we  don't  respect,  pretty  soon  there'll  be  no 
respect  for  the  laws  they  make,"  said  the 
father,  "and  when  the  laws  ain't  respected, 
a  country  like  our's  is  ruined ;  for  we've 
no  thin'  else  to  govern  us.  No,  nothin'  but 
the  laws !  You  young  folks,  then,  must  see 
to  this.  You  must  see  that  good  men 
are  put  in  office, — not  only  smart  men,  but 
upright,  honest  men,  with  consciences  that 
can't  be  warped  or  twisted.  Why,  an  un- 
principled man  in  office  is  jist  as  bad  as  a 
rotten  plank  in  a  ship  at  sea :  it  may  be 
tucked  out  of  sight  and  covered  up  by 
others  atop  of  it,  but  there's  a  weak  spot 
there,  and  whenever  there  comes  a  strain 
on  the  vessel  it  will  be  sure  to  show  itself; 
and  if  you  get  many  good-for-nothing  tim- 
bers into  her,  she'll  jist  as  sartainly  go  to 
pieces  as  there  comes  a  gale.  You  can't 
save  a  vessel  that's  made  up  of  rotten 
timbers, — no,  nor   a    nation   that's    ruled 

13* 


150  ROTTEN    TIMBER. 

by  wicked  men !  Every  town-officer  you 
choose,  if  he's  a  scamp,  weakens  the  ship 
of  state  a  little ;  and  so  on  up  to  the  highest 
in  the  land.  So,  I  say,  don't  let  us  have 
any  rotten  timber  anywhere!  I'm  a'most 
done  with  these  things  myself ;  but  do  you, 
George,  try  all  you  can  to  keep  such  men 
out ;  not  only  vote  agin  'em,  but  use  all 
your  influence  to  make  others  vote  agin 
'em  too,  and  to  keep  every  man  who's  cor- 
rupt from  havin'  any  thing  to  do  either  in 
makin'  the  laws  for  us  or  in  administerin' 
'em  after  they  are  made.  That's  your  fust 
duty  as  a  good  citiz^i  and  a  Christian  man ; 
and  every  voter  who  don't  do  this  com- 
mits a  sin  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  will 
have  to  answer  for  it  in  the  judgment- 
day." 

This  idea  seemed  to  dwell  on  his  mind; 
for  he  returned  to  it  again. 

11  Some  folks  think,"  said  he,  "  that  if 
a  man's  only  of  their  party,  that's  enough; 
but  I  tell  you  it  ain't  enough.  There  must 
be  integrity  in  the  man,  or  you  can't  de- 


OLD    TIMES. 


151 


pend  on  him;  and  that  must  be  a  poor 
party,  truly,  that  can't  find  among  it 
men  enough  for  candidates  who  are  both 
able  and  honest  In  our  country  there's 
fewer  checks  on  the  people  who  hold  office, 
and  on  the  people  who  put  'em  in,  than  m 
any  other;  and  because  we've  got  so  much 
more  libbaty  and  freedom,  we  must  have 
just  so  much  more  vartue  and  integrity ; 
for  it's  integrity— it's  integrity,  I  tell  you 

that's  to  presarve  us.     If  we  lose  that, 

we  are  a  ruined  people!" 

"  Do  you  think  there  is  as  much  integ- 
rity among  the  people  now  as  there  was 
formerly?"  asked  Mrs.  Roberts. 

"Well,  it's  a  pretty  hard  thing  to  tell. 
It  does  seem  to  me  there  ain't ;  but  then 
old  folks  allers  think  old  times  and  old 
ways  was  best.  It's  nateral  to  'em.  In 
old  times  there  might  be  more  drinkin' 
and  swearin'  than  there  is  now,  but  there 
wa'n't  nigh  so  much  cheatin'  and  lyin'. 
When  Jefferson  come  in  President,  a  great 
many  good   folks   thought  the  Evil  One 


152  A    PATRIOTIC    WISH. 

himself  had  got  the  upper  hand,  and  that 
the  country  would  sartainly  go  right  to 
ruin ;  but  it  didn't.  There  was  a  Bight  o' 
wickedness  in  the  country  then,  and  there's 
a  sight  now,  and  it's  hard  to  say  which  is 
the  worst.  But  I've  allers  thought  the 
Lord  raised  up  this  country  to  do  a  great 
work  in  the  world;  and,  if  he  did,  she'll 
do  it.  No  nation,  nor  all  the  nations  of 
the  world,  can't  stop  it.  Yes,  I  love  my 
country — this  blessed  Union,  and  the 
blessed  old  flag — better  than  any  thing  on 
airth  ;  but  I  don't  feel  afraid  to  trust  'em 
all  in  the  Lord's  hands.  May  he  make 
the  dear  old  stars  and  stripes  a  praise  and 
a  glory  to  all  comin'  generations,  and 
grant  that  neither  my  children,  nor  chil- 
dren's children,  may  ever  live  to  see  'em 
disgraced  or  trampled  on!" 

At  prayers,  that  night,  the  heart  of  the 
old  man  was  kindled  into  unwonted  fer~ 
vour,  and  the  petitions  he  poured  out  for 
the  country  and  those  who  should  rule 
over  it  were  prompted  by  emotions  which 


A    PATRIOTIC    WISH.  153 

seemed  vainly  struggling  for  expression. 
It  was  a  prayer  never  forgotten  by  those 
who  heard  it;  and  long  years  afterwards 
it  rose  up  vividly  in  their  remembrance, 
kindling  a  new  glow  of  patriotic  feeling 
and  devotion  to  the  country  their  fathers 
had  loved  so  well  and  prayed  for  so  ear- 
nestly. 


154  SLEEP. 


CHAPTER  XL 

SLEEP. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  when  the  family 
retired  that  night, — a  late  hour  for  the  in- 
mates of  the  Roberts's  family.  Out  of  the 
sitting-room  two  doors  opened  into  two 
sleeping-rooms,  and  these  were  occupied 
one  by  the  father  and  mother  and  the 
other  by  the  grandfather.  The  door 
between  these  rooms  was  always  left 
open,  so  that  assistance  could  be  promptly 
rendered  if  any  should  be  needed. 

But  there  was  no  call  that  night,  IMo 
groan  nor  sigh  was  heard,  as  hour  after 
hour  of  the  long  autumn  night  passed 
away.  The  mother  was  awake  more  than 
once,  but  all  was  silent,  save  the  moaning 
of  the  wind.  Yet  in  those  still  night- 
watches  the  Angel  of  Death  entered  that 


THE    RELEASE.  155 

humble  abode,  and  bore  away  the  spirit 
of  him  who  had  so  long  dwelt  within  it, 
— bore  it  away,  tenderly,  noiselessly,  to 
the  bosom  of  its  God;  and  he  whose  last 
act  had  been  one  of  faithful  service  to  his 
country,  whose  last  words  had  been  words 
of  intercession  before  God's  throne  in  its 
behalf,  had  passed  beyond  the  boundaries 
of  space  and  time,  to  inhabit  "a  better 
country,  even  an  heavenly." 

It  did  not  seem  possible  he  could  be 
gone;  and  yet  it  was  true.  The  dear 
grandfather,  whom  they  all  loved  so  ten- 
derly, was  found  lying  in  his  bed,  his  face 
as  calm  and  tranquil  as  a  child's,  but  life 
had  forever  fled !  How  or  when  the 
spirit  had  departed,  could  never  be  known. 
That  there  had  been  no  suffering  was 
evident  from  the  position  of  the  body  and 
the  composure  of  every  feature ;  but  where 
it  had  gone,  no  one  for  an  instant  doubted. 
As  the  dawn  lighted  up  the  eastern  sky, 
they  knew  that  a  glorious  and  immortal 
morning  was  breaking  in  upon  his  soul, 


156  THE    BURIAL. 

and  that  henceforth  he  would  rejoice  in 
the  uncreated,  ineffable  light  of  God's 
countenance  for  evermore. 

It  was  a  sore  bereavement.  Every 
member  of  the  family,  even  to  the  young- 
est child,  had  loved  "grandpa,"  and  turned 
to  him  for  sympathy  and  counsel ;  for, 
though  old  in  years,  his  heart  had  still 
kept  young  and  fresh.  No  one  else  could 
ever  be  to  them  what  he  was,  and  no 
other  words  ever  have  the  same  charm  for 
them  as  his  quaint,  old-fashioned  words 
of  counsel  and  reproof. 

It  was  on  one  of  those  mild,  Indian- 
summer  days  which  November  sometimes 
brings,  that  the  mourning  household,  fol- 
lowed by  a  long  procession  of  neighbours 
and  friends,  went  to  the  little  graveyard 
near  the  church  to  lay  down  their  dead. 
Not  a  cloud  rested  on  the  sky,  not  a  breath 
of  wind  stirred  the  few  brown  withered 
leaves  which  still  clung  to  the  trees  ;  but 
a  calm,  radiant  glory  rested  on  all  the  hills 
as  they  passed  by.     He  was  laid  beside 


MOUKNING. 


157 


the  wife  of  his  youth,  "in  the  sure  and 
certain  hope  of  resurrection  to  everlasting 
life,"  there  to  slumber  till  all  that  are  in 
their  graves  shall  "hear  the  voice  of  the 
Son  of  man,  and  shall  come  forth,  they 
that  have  done  good  unto  the  resurrection 
of  life,  and  they  that  have  done  evil  unto 
the  resurrection  of  damnation." 

Leonard  wept  at  the   grave  long  and 
bitterly.     He  was  the  especial  favourite 
of  his  grandfather,  and  he  had  loved  him 
in  return  with  all  the  warmth  of  his  boy- 
ish nature.     It  was  his  first  bereavement, 
and  "he  refused  to  be  comforted."     But 
that  night,   when   all  was  over,   and  he 
stood  looking  up  at  the  quiet  stars  which 
were  out  in   all   their   glory,   moving   on 
in  their  serene  march  through  the  silent 
heavens,  his  soul  was  calmed.     He  felt  a 
new*  sense  of  the  soul's  immortality  :  he 
believed  his  beloved  friend  was  alive  still, 
— alive  and  happy, — perhaps  was  still  re- 
membering him  in  the   new  life  he  was 
living  in  the  heavens.     To  him,  as  to  his 


158  MEMORY. 

grandfather  so  many  long  years  before,  it 
seemed  as  if  the  eye  of  the  departed 
might  be  gazing  at  him  from  those  far-off 
worlds ;  and  his  heart  thrilled  with  a  vague 
but  sincere  desire  to  become  pure  and  holy 
like  those  dear  lost  ones. 

A  boy's  grief,  though  violent,  is  seldom 
enduring ;  and  Leonard,  though  he  never 
lost  a  venerating  memory  of  what  his 
grandfather  had  been  to  him,  was  soon 
occupied  again  by  the  cares  and  pleasures 
of  his  daily  life. 

But  from  that  night  he  began  to  read 
daily  in  the  little  Bible  which  his  grand- 
father had  given  him,  and  which  was  hal- 
lowed by  so  many  touching  associations. 
Often,  too,  as  he  grew  older,  some  expres- 
sion of  his  grandfather's  would  occur  to 
him, — some  quaint  comparison,  or  some  bit 
of  advice,  homely  but  sensible,  which 
affected  him  as  nothing  else  did.  Espe- 
cially did  he  cherish  the  old  flag  with  an 
almost  superstitious  reverence,  always  un- 
rolling it   on   each   successive  Fourth   of 


MEMORY.  159 

July  ;  for  he  could  never  forget  the  look 
with  which  the  aged  patriot  had  said, — 

.  "  Mind,  when  grandfather's  gone,  you 
don't  forget  to  set  the  old  flag  a-wavin'  on 
the  Fourth  :  'pears  to  me  it  would  do  me 
good  to  see  it  even  in  another  world." 


160  TEN    YEARS    LATER. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

TEN    YEARS    LATER. 

Nowhere  would  the  years  be  expected 
to  slip  away  more  quietly,  leaving  fewer 
traces  of  their  flight,  than  in  that  humble 
dwelling  at  Woodlee ;  yet  when  we  revisit 
it  after  ten  years  have  fled,  we  shall  find 
marked  changes  there.  The  outward  aspect 
is  much  the  same,  save  that  the  trees  are 
taller  and  the  fences  older.  If  we  enter 
the  house  at  evening,  we  shall  find  the 
family  assembled  around  the  fire,  the 
mother  sitting  in  her  old  place,  not  greatly 
altered,  though  if  we  observe  her  closely 
we  shall  find  there  are  deeper  lines  on  her 
face  and  that  her  hair  is  becoming  white 
and  silvery.  But  Mary  Roberts  is  now  a 
widow;  and  for  four  years  she  has  stood 
at   the   bead   of   her    household,  with    no 


CHANGES.  161 

strong  arm  to  lean  on  bnt  His  who  is  the 
God  of  the  widow  and  the  fatherless. 

The  young  man.  in  the  opposite  corner 
must  be  our  old  friend  Leonard ;  but  how 
changed!  We  left  him  a  boy,  and  now 
he  is  a  man.  He  is  not  very  tall,  but  his 
stout,  muscular  frame  makes  him  look 
manly  and  older  even  than  he  is.  He 
has  the  same  dark-gray  eyes,  but  the  fea- 
tures are  better  harmonized,  and  he  is 
now  a  sensible,  good-looking  young  man 
of  twenty, — by  no  means  handsome,  but 
with  a  decided,  straightforward  expression 
which  makes  one  feel  that  he  has  opinions 
of  his  own,  which  he  will  not  be  likely  to 
give  up  on  any  slight  occasion.  "A  young 
man  of  character,"  you  would  be  likely  to 
say  at  first  sight ;  and  he  looks,  too,  like 
one  who  has  early  felt  responsibility  and 
care.  His  face  and  hands  show  that  he 
is  a  labouring  man  ;  but  his  whole  bearing 
indicates  intelligence  and  self-respect,  as 
every  labouring  man's  should ;  for  who  is 
more  truly  independent? 

14* 


162  CHANGES. 

The  sedate,  composed-lookiiig  woman  of 
twenty-six  who  sits  by  the  table  sewing, 
is  tin.'  fair  young  Mabel  of  other  days, 
grown  mature  and  thoughtful;  but  the 
same  bright  smile  lights  up  her  face  as 
she  says, — 

"I  knew  he  would  get  the  prize.  The 
truth  is,  it  costs  Sydney  nothing  to  excel 
in  his  studies.  He  learns  so  easily,  study 
is  only  a  delight  to  him." 

' '  I  hope  he  hasn't  been  sitting  up  late 
nights,"  said  the  careful  mother.  "Does 
he  say  any  thing  about  his  health?" 

"•  No,  nor  about  any  thing  else,  only  that 
he's  got  the  prize,  and  that  it  made  him 
half  ashamed  to  take  it,  when  he  saw  how 
disappointed  Bascom  was.  Bascom,  he 
says,  had  really  studied  harder  than  he, 
mid  better  deserved  to  get  it." 

'■  That's  just  like  Sydney,"  said  Mabel, 
— ''always  thinking  better  of  others  than 
of  himself." 

"Yes,  he's  a  modest  little  fellow  as  ever 
lived,"  said  Leonard;  "'and  he's  a  splendid 


PLANS.  163 

scholar.  He  ought  to  keep  right  on  with 
his  studies.  We  must  try  to  manage  it, 
somehow." 

"I  know  we  can,"  said  Mabel,  eagerly; 
"at  least  to  send  him  through  this  year." 

"Don't  be  too  sure  of  that,"  said  the 
mother.  "It  would  be  pleasant  to  do  it, 
but  you  mustn't  be  governed  too  much  by 
feeling.  If  he  is  away  in  summer  you'll 
be  obliged  to  hire  a  man ;  and  that  takes 
off  a  great  deal  of  the  profits  of  the  farm. 
Then  Sydney's  board-bill  runs  up  pretty 
fast.  I  want  him  to  stay  there  as  much 
as  you  do,  but  I  really  doubt  if  it's  best. 
There  are  a  good  many  extra  expenses  on 
the  farm  this  year,  you  know.  The  barn 
must  be  shingled,  and  a  new  front  fence 
made  ;  and  we  must  not  get  into  debt." 

"No,  indeed!"  said  Leonard,  decidedly. 
The  remembrance  of  the  old  debt  which 
m  his  childhood  had  hung  like  a  millstone 
on  the  family  was  a  wholesome  caution 
against  becoming  encumbered  by  another. 

The  question  was  whether  Sydney,  now 


164  PLA 

in  his  sixteenth  year,  should  be  kept  at  an 
academy  in  a  neighbouring  town  where  he 
had  been  studying  through  the  winter. 
His  fine  scholarship  and  comparative  in- 
efficiency in  all  kinds  of  manual  labour, 
had  made  it  manifest  that  he  was  to  get 
his  living  by  brain- work  of  some  kind. 
He  had  acquired  all  the  branches  taught 
in  the  district-schools  of  Woodlee  rapidly 
and  thoroughly,  and  a  few  more  terms  at 
the  academy  would  fit  him — for  college  ? 
Yes ;  but,  alas !  that  was  not  to  be  thought 
of.  To  fit  him  for  teaching  was  all  they 
dared  look  forward  to.  In  that  way  he 
might  support  himself,  and  perhaps,  as  his 
own  ardent,  hopeful  spirit  whispered,  carry 
himself  in  time  through  college  and  a  pro- 
fession. 

George  Roberts  had  lived  to  pay  off  the 
last  instalment  of  the  debt  which  had  so 
long  hung  like  an  incubus  upon  him,  and 
he  was  just  beginning  to  take  more  hopeful 
and  kindly  views  of  life,  when  he  was  sum- 
moned away  from  it.     During  his  last  ill- 


FAMILY    (RANGES.  165 

ness,  he  was  able  to  give  but  few  directions 
about  his  business  affairs ;  and  on  Leonard, 
then  only  sixteen,  had  come  the  chief  bur- 
den of  supporting  the  family,  so  far  as  it 
was  possible  for  such  a  boy  to  do  it.  It 
had  been  necessary  to  hire  help,  and  the 
farm  had  not  thrived  as  it  did  under  his 
father's  management ;  for,  though  George 
Koberts  had  been  a  melancholy,  austere 
man,  he  was  an  excellent  manager,  and 
was  universally  respected  for  his  upright- 
ness and  thorough  integrity.  Leonard  was 
just  beginning  to  appreciate  the  worth  of 
his  character  and  counsels  when  he  was 
left  fatherless.  By  the  strictest  economy 
the  family  had  been  kept  together,  and  the 
farm  saved  for  them  free  of  debt;  and,  now 
that  Leonard  was  older,  their  prospects 
had  brightened  somewhat.  Lucy  had  mar- 
ried two  years  before,  and  gone  West  to 
live.  They  heard  from  her  but  seldom, 
and  on  the  mother's  heart  there  weighed 
a  vague,  unexpressed  fear  that  she  had  not 
married    satisfactorily;   though   she   knew 


166  A   PERPLEXITY. 

nothing  positively  unfavourable  about  her 
son-in-law's  character  or  condition. 

"It  won't  hurt  Sydney  to  be  out  of 
school  till  winter,"  said  the  mother  :  "in- 
deed, I  think  it  will  be  better  for  him.  J I  •  ■ 
needs  to  have  some  hardships.  He  must 
be  toughened  a  little  before  he  will  be  able 
to  make  his  own  way  in  the  world,  as  he's 
got  to  do." 

"He  don't  help  much  on  the  farm," 
said  Leonard,  hesitatingly;  "at  least,  we 
shall  have  to  keep  a  man  all  the  same." 

"  But  he  ought  to  help,"  said  the  mother, 
energetically.  "Why,  Leonard,  he's  as  old 
now,  into  a  month  or  two,  as  you  were  when 
your  father  died." 

"Yes,  but  he's  so  different,  mother. 
He's  not  strong,  as  I  was,  and " 

"And  he  doesn't  like  to  work  on  a  farm. 
I  know  that;  but  I  think  it's  all  wrong  in 
him,  and  that  he  ought  to  do  what  he  doesn't 
like  to,  as  well  as  the  rest  of  us." 

"  But  I  do  like  to  work.  I  am  just  made 
up  for  a  plodding  farmer  and  nothing  else. 


A    NEW    MAN.  L67 

Oh,  mother,"  said  Leonard,  looking  up 
earnestly  into  his  mother's  face,  "you 
don't  know  how  I've  often  had  to  struggle 
with  a  wicked,  envious  feeling  in  my  heart 
towards  Sydney.  He's  so  gifted,  so  bril- 
liant, and  so  sure  to  make  his  way  in  the 
world,  and  be  looked  up  to  and  admired 
without  working,  while  I  shall  always  have 
to  drudge  and  be  nobody.  Somehow,  it 
didn't  seem  right  or  fair.  But,  mother," 
he  added,  cheerily,  "don't  look  so  troubled : 
it's  all  over  now.  Since  last  fall  I've  come 
to  feel  that  we  are  all  just  in  the  right 
place,  and  can  all  be  useful  and  happy 
wherever  we  are." 

1  'Since  last  fall  /"  At  that  time  a  change 
had  come  over  Leonard's  purposes  and  the 
governing  motive  of  his  life.  He  had  then 
professed  himself  a  disciple  of  Jesus  Christ; 
and  for  him  to  profess  to  be  a  disciple  was 
to  be  one  in  reality,  and  to  have  his  hopes, 
affections  and  acts  brought  into  conformity 
to  the  will  of  his  divine  Master.  It  was, 
as  the  apostle  expresses  it,  "to  live  in  new- 


L68  A     NEW    MAN. 

ness  of  life."  His  outward  conduct  was 
not  so  much  changed  as  his  inward  pur- 
poses,— his  ideas  of  life  and  duty.  These 
had  righted  themselves,  so  to  speak,  and 
he  saw  them  now  from  the  true  stand- 
point and  in  their  just  relations.  Trained, 
as  we  have  seen,  to  habits  of  thorough 
integrity  towards  man,  he  had  now,  by 
divine  assistance,  become  honest  also 
towards  God,  giving  Him  his  due, — the 
affections  of  his  heart  and  the  service  of 
his  hands;  honest  also  towards  his  own 
soul,  not  defrauding  it  of  its  birthright, — 
the  elevation,  the  nobility,  the  true  plea- 
sures which  rightfully  belonged  to  it,  and 
which  it  could  never  find  but  in  a  spiritual 
union  to  its  Creator  and  Redeemer. 

''Yes,"  continued  Leonard,  "I  found 
all  kinds  of  wrong,  wicked  feelings  were 
coming  -up  in  my  heart  towards  those  who 
were  richer,  or  brighter,  or  in  any  way 
better  off  than  I ;  and  they  made  me 
wretched.  But  now  I  mean  to  be  con- 
tented, and  to  make  all  I  can  of  myself 


A   SOUND    LAW.  169 

just  when;  God  lias  placed  me,  and  with 
just  the  talents  he  has  given  me,  even  if 
they  are  small  and  few.  Don't  you  re- 
member, grandfather  used  to  say,  'Folks 
never  could  be  on  an  equality  in  this  life, 
— for  God  didn't  make  'em  alike,  and 
didn't  mean  'em  to  be  alike'?  I  see  it  is 
so,  and  that  some  are  designed  to  do  one 
thing  and  some  another,  and  that  each 
may  be  happy  in  doing  what  he  was 
meant  to  do.  Now,  Sydney  can  no  more 
do  the  work  on  the  farm  that  I  did  at  his 
age,  than  I  could  have  solved  the  problems 
in  mathematics  which  he  works  out ;  but 
he  can  do  better  things.  I  don't  envy  him 
now.  I  mean  to  help  him  all  I  can  to 
make  the  most  of  himself.  He  will  be 
sure  to  make  a  first-rate  scholar,  and  some 
day  we  shall  all  be  very  proud  of  him. 
Mother,  don't  you  think  so?" 

"You  are  my  good,  noble-hearted  boy," 
said  the  mother,  tenderly  :  "I  never  shall 
be  prouder  of  Sydney  than  I  am  of  you, 
Leonard." 

15 


170  A    BOUND    LAW. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  will,  when  he  stands  up 
in  the  pulpit,  or  gets  into  Congress,  or 
some  other  high  position,"  said  Leonard, 
laughing.  "  But  we'll  each  be  a  com- 
fort to  you  in  our  own  way,  mother,  and 
we'll  all  help  one  another  along  the  best 
we  can.  Here's  Mabel  will  be  sure  to  do 
her  part, — '  my  goodest  sister,'  as  Sydney 
used  to  call  her  before  he  could  speak 
plain." 

u  I  have  been  blessed  in  my  children," 
said  the  mother,  wiping  her  eyes ;  "  I  could 
not  ask  for  better  ones.  But  I  don't  want 
my  youngest  spoiled  by  being  too  much 
petted.  He  has  never  yet  made  sacrifices 
for  others ;  for  others  have  always  done 
for  him;  and  that  is  just  the  way  to  make 
him  a  selfish  man,  you  know/' 

''But  Sydney  isn't  a  bit  selfish,"  said 
Mabel,  indignantly:  "he's  as  warm-hearted 
a  boy  as  ever  was  !'" 

"Yes,  he's  impulsive  and  generous  by 
nature  ;  but  when  you  are  as  old  as  I  am 
you  will  find  that  a  great  many  boys  of 


A    SENSIBLE    MOTHER.  171 

that  temperament  become  selfish  and  exact- 
ing men, — that  is,  selfish  in  a  certain  way; 
always  willing  others  should  do  for  them, 
and  expecting  they  will.  So  far,  Sydney 
has  been  the  petted  one  of  our  family;  and 
I  think  he  ought  now  to  exert  himself 
more.  He  might  do  something  to  pay  for 
his  board,  at  least.  I  don't  want  you  to  be 
overworking  yourself  and  going  without 
things  you  really  need,  to  help  him.  .  It 
isn't  right,  and  it's  no  real  kindness  to 
him  to  carry  him  over  all  the  hard  places." 

So  spoke  the  sensible,  experienced 
mother;  but,  when  she  had  retired  for  the 
night,  the  good  brother  and  loving  sister 
sat  up  planning  how  they  might  make 
sacrifices  for  their  favourite.  It  was  easier 
for  them  to  make  them  than  not  to  make 
them  ;  and  as  for  Sydney,  when  he  was 
older  and  had  finished  his  education,  they 
said,  he  would  be  sure  to  do  a  great  deal 
more  for  them  than  they  ever  had  done  for 
him. 

"  I  think  mother  is  too  hard  on  8yd- 


1/2  A    OOMMOH    CASS. 

ney,"  said  Mabel.  "  He's  only  just  young 
and  thoughtless.  If  he  knew  we  put  our- 
selves out  for  him,  it  would  make  him  un- 
happy. Now,  T  really  do  not  need  a  new 
shawl  or  dress  the  least  bit  in  the  world, 
and " 

"And  I  can  do  well  enough  without  a 
new  suit  in  the  fall,"  said  Leonard. 

" Oh,  Leonard!  your  freedom-suit !  You 
must  have  that !" 

11  No,  not  if  Sydney  is  kept  at  school 
through  the  year.  He  can't  work  for  his 
board  ;  it  isn't  in  him  to  work  :  it's  in 
him  to  study,  and  nothing  else." 

So,  after  divers  talks  and  consultations, 
it  was  decided  by  the  time  Sydney  came 
home  for  his  vacation  that  he  should 
return  to  school ;  and  the  light-hearted, 
bright-eyed  youth  rejoiced  in  the  fact, 
without  any  just  idea  of  what  it  cost.  It 
is  always  so  in  this  life  :  the  self-sacrificing 
ones  continue  to  make  sacrifices,  reaping 
a  rich  reward  in  the  joy  of  their  own 
hearts  for  doing  so  ;    while  the  genius  of 


AN    OFFENSIVE    CHARACTER.  173 

the  family  continues  charmingly  oblivious 
of  the  fact.  We  are  not  complaining  of 
this.  Some,  by  the  very  necessity  of  their 
nature,  must  work  for  others,  and  are  only 
happy  while  doing  it ;  while  others  seem 
to  need  perpetual  sunshine  to  develop 
their  capacities,  and,  unless  they  are  care- 
fully sheltered  from  #  exposure  and  hard- 
ship in  their  youth,  can  never  become  the 
blessings  to  the  world  they  were  designed 
to  be.  Only  let  the  latter  never  forget 
that,  if  the  toil  of  manual  labouT  is  not 
required  of  all,  all  are  bound  to  respect 
those  who  do  labour,  and  to  render  an 
equivalent  to  the  world  in  service  of  a  dif- 
ferent kind  ;  and  let  them  carefully  guard 
themselves  against  becoming  exacting  and 
selfish,  as  well  as  against  any  feeling  of  su- 
periority. If  there  is  a  being  in  the  world 
whom  it  is  difficult  to  regard  with  com- 
placency, it  is  he  who,  lifted  up  to  a  higher 
position  in  life  by  the  sacrifices  and  toils 
of  the  humbler  members  of  his  family, 
fancies  himself  their  superior,  and  either 

15* 


174  THE    YOUNG    SCHOLAR. 

forgets  their  existence  altogether  or  con- 
descendingly patronizes  thern  as  his  infe- 
riors. 

Such  a  sad  requital  for  their  loving 
labours,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  was  not  in  store 
for  Leonard  and  Mabel  Roberts.  At  pre- 
sent the  young  scholar  was  certainly  as 
modest  and  affectionate  a  brother  as  they 
could  wish.  He  was  still  shy  in  his  inter- 
course with  strangers,  only  kindling  into 
brilliancy  when  perfectly  at  his  ease  by 
the  kifShen-fireside  of  the  old  red  house, 
or  in  the  school-room,  where  he  stood  the 
acknowledged  superior  in  all  his  classes. 


THE    WOOD-LOT.  175 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


THE    WOOD-LOT. 


It  was  now  March ;  but  there  was  still 
snow  lying  on  the  ground,  and  the  sleigh- 
ing on  the  highlands  of  Woodlee  continued 
good.  The  morning  after  the  little  debate 
on  Sydney's  future,  Leonard  and  Mabel 
were,  as  usual,  both  astir  before  the  first 
streak  of  dawn.  He  had  his  horses,  cows 
and  sheep  to  feed  and  look  after,  and  the 
cows  to  milk ;  and  she  must  prepare  the 
early  breakfast. 

"  Where  are  you  going  to-day?"  asked 
his  mother,  who  joined  them  at  the  break- 
fast-table. 

"Over  to  the  wood-lot,  to  draw  some 
more  wood  to  the  judge,"  said  Leonard. 

"I  thought  you  were  through  with  sled- 
ding for  this  year." 


176  GOOD    HABITS. 

"I  thought  so  too;  but  he  was  very 
anxious  I  should  get  him  five  cords  more, 
and  offered  a  good  price  for  it :  so  I've 
promised  to  draw  it  if  the  sleighing  holds 
on  a  little  longer." 

The  breakfast  of  beef-steak  and  baked 
potatoes  was  eaten.  They  always  had  a 
warm  meat-breakfast  when  Leonard  went 
to  the  wood-lot,  for  he  did  not  come  home 
to  eat  again  till  his  day's  work  was  over. 
A  chapter  from  God's  holy  word  was 
reverently  read,  and  the  morning  prayer 
for  his  blessing  offered;  and  when  Leon- 
ard drove  out  through  the  gate,  the  sun 
was  only  just  looking  over  the  East-hill 
ridge.  It  was  a  cold,  blustering  morning, 
but  he  whistled  a  lively  tune  as  he  jumped 
on  his  sled,  for  the  blood  in  his  veins  cir- 
culated far  too  briskly  for  any  March 
wind  to  chill  it,  and  his  heart  was  light 
and  buoyant  with  a  thousand  hopes. 

It  had  been  a  hard  winter's  work  to  clear 
that  lot  on  the  side-hill  from  its  heavy 
growth  of  timber,  and  Leonard  had  worked 


WORK    DONE.  177 

there  steadily  for  months, — "  worked  like 
a  dog"  John  Hall  said, — like  a  high-spi- 
rited, brave-hearted,  energetic  man,  we 
should  say, — rand,  by  the  help  of  one  hired 
hand,  he  had  done  wonders.  The  grand 
old  forest-trees,  whose  heads  had  been  up- 
lifted for  many  a  year  towards  the  sky  in 
sunshine  and  in  storm,  had  been  levelled 
to  the  ground.  Such  of  them  as  were 
suitable  for  building-purposes  had  been 
hauled  to  the  saw-mill,  and  the  rest  drawn 
to  the  village  for  fire-wood  or  piled  up  in 
long  rows  by  the  side  of  the  road  for  sale. 
In  order  to  do  this,  they  had  often  waded 
about  in  deep  drifts  above  their  knees,  for 
it  had  been  a  severe  winter ;  but  Leonard 
was  never  cold,  and  always  laughed 
heartily  when  his  mother,  who  felt  chilly 
sitting  by  the  fire,  worried  about  his  ex- 
posing himself  so  much.  He  was  usually 
tired — often  extremely  tired — when  he  got 
home  ;  but  it  was  a  wholesome  fatigue, 
insuring  a  good  night's  sleep.  Indeed,  he 
was  seldom  too  tired  to  go  to  the  evening 


178  EVENING    EMPLOYMENT. 

singing-school  if  there  was  one  in  the 
village,  and  to  walk  home  half  a  mile  in 
an  opposite  direction  with  Susan  Lee,  who 
had  now  risen  up  into  a  well-grown,  rosy- 
cheeked  maiden  of  eighteen. 

Neither  was  he  often  too  tired  to  read  aloud 
from  the  book  of  travels  or  history  which 
Mabel  had  taken  from  the  library.  It  had 
been  a  habit  of  his  father's  to  read  aloud 
in  the  winter-evenings,  and  his  mother  had 
trained  Leonard  to  do  the  same,  while  she 
and  his  sisters  sewed.  Now  she  sat  in 
her  rocking-chair  in  the  corner  and  knit, 
while  Mabel  sewTed  by  the  little  table,  and 
Leonard  drew  up  to  the  other  side  of  it  with 
his  book.  He  did  not  read  particularly 
well,  for  he  was  by  no  means  a  finished 
scholar;  but  they  could  understand,  and  so 
did  he,  and  in  this  way  he  was  becoming 
an  intelligent  young  man,  who  knew  some- 
thing about  the  world  he  lived  in,  and  its 
inhabitants,  and  wThose  views  of  things  in 
general  were  becoming  enlarged  and  liberal. 
He  read  slowly,  and  he  took  in  an  idea 


TRUE    COURAGE.  179 

slowly;  but  when  it  was  taken  in,  he  re- 
tained it :  he  pondered  on  it,  and  made  it 
his  own.  No,  Leonard  was  not  brilliant 
nor  quick.  He  was  just  a  plain,  sensible, 
hard-working  young  farmer,  such  as  the 
poorest  New  England  lad  may  become  ; 
but  he  was  the  comfort  of  his  mother's 
heart, — her  home-boy,  her  protector  and 
support. 

On  this  windy  morning,  as  he  drove 
along,  cheerily  facing  the  blast,  his  heart 
was  full  of  bright  hopes  of  the  future ;  for 
he  felt  within  himself  not  only  a  conscious- 
ness of  power  to  wrestle  with  the  hardships 
that  lay  before  him,  but  also  to  overcome 
them.  He  was  no  coward  to  sit  down  and 
repine  because  the  way  was  hard  and  the 
conflict  sharp ;  but  he  was  brave  -hearted 
and  strong-bodied,  and  he  meant  to  meet 
the  toils  and  trials  of  his  lot  as  a  brave 
man  should.  He  had  a  young  man's 
health,  a  young  man's  hopefulness,  and, 
more  than  all,  he  was  conscious  of  an 
honesty  of  purpose  which  enabled  him  to 


180  ANTICIPATION. 

look  upward  fearlessly  for  a  blessing  on 
his  plans.  Honest  both  towards  God  and 
towards  man,  what  had  he  to  fear?  There 
was  no  dark  place  in  his  heart  to  be  covered 
up,  no  miserable  foreboding  of  detection  or 
coming  retribution  lurking  there  ;  but  in- 
stead of  these  there  wrere  peace  and  light 
in  his  whole  soul  ;  and  his  countenance 
and  bearing  were  open,  straightforward 
and  manly,  as  became  an  honest,  true- 
hearted  working-man. 

As  he  glanced  over  the  cleared  space, 
now  looking  bare  and  desolate,  he  saw 
in  imagination  a  beautiful  crop  of  wheat 
waving  there  ;  and  when  he  thought  of 
the  money  that  wheat  would  bring  in 
market,  he  rejoiced,  not  with  a  sordid 
delight  in  mere  accumulation,  but  because 
he  could  do  so  many  good  and  desirable 
things  with  it,  for  his  mother,  for  Sydney 
and  for  Mabel.  For  himself,  too,  he  had 
cherished  plans  lying  hidden  away  in  the 
warmest  corner  of  his  heart :  what  young 
man  has  not0    But  they  were  good,  pure, 


AN    INCIDENT.  181 

upright  plans,  such  as  he  need  not  blush 
to  own  .to  God  or  man. 

With  a  hand  made  dexterous  and  strong 
by  use,  he  quickly  loaded  his  sled,  care- 
fully measured  his  load,  and  set  off  with 
it  in  the  direction  of  the  village.  As  he 
was  driving  by  Dr.  Willard's  door,  some 
one  hailed  him. 

"What  will  you  take,  Roberts,  for  that 
load  of  wood?"  inquired  the  doctor. 

"It's  engaged,  sir." 

"Have  you  any  more  like  it?" 

"Only  two  or  three  cords.  I  have  a 
plenty  of  wood,  but  it  isn't  so  straight  and 
sound  as  this." 

"What  do  you  ask  a  cord?" 

"Judge  Bailey  gives  me  three  dollars 
and  a  half." 

"That  is  a  great  price, — more  than  men 
in  general  ask." 

"Yes,  sir;  but  it's  an  uncommonly  good 
lot  of  wood." 

"Could  you  bring  me  three  cords  this 
week?" 

16 


182  ANOTHER    INCIDENT. 

11  Not  this  week.  I've  engaged  all  I  can 
draw  for  several  days." 

The  doctor  hesitated.  "I'm  in  want  of 
some  immediately." 

At  this  juncture,  another  load  from  the 
opposite  direction  came  up  the  road,  and 
Leonard  drove  on.  The  driver  of  the  other 
load  was  Jim  Barker,  an  old  schoolmate  of 
Leonard's. 

"Want  a  load  of  wood,  doctor?"'  he 
asked. 

"Yes,  if  you've  got  a  good  one." 

"First-rate,  doctor, — good  hard  maple 
and  oak,  every  stick  on't." 

The  doctor  looked  at  it  carefully.  It 
looked  well  on  the  outside,  and,  after  some 
chaffering  about  the  price, — for  Jim,  hear- 
ing Leonard  say  he  was  to  have  three  dollars 
and  a  half,  raised  the  price  on  his, — he 
concluded  to  take  it,  and  it  was  driven 
into  the  yard. 

When  Leonard  drove  his  load  through 
the  gate  at  Judge  Bailey's,  the  judge  him- 
self came  out  to  look  at  it. 


A   GOOD    NAME.  183 


"You  are  punctual,  I  see,"  he  said.  "  It 
is  a  real  pleasure  to  deal  with  a  man  who 
does  a  thing  when  he  says  he  will." 

Leonard  smiled.  He  always  made  an 
effort  to  keep  an  engagement,  considering 
it  as  something  binding  and  sacred. 

"I've  brought  you  a  capital  load,  sir," 
he  said.  "There  isn't  a  crooked  stick  m 
it." 

"It  looks  well.  How  much  is  there?" 
asked  the  judge. 

"A  cord  and  a  quarter,  plump.  You'll 
find  it  will  hold  out,  I  think." 

"I  am  willing  to  take  your  word  for  it, 
Leonard ;  and  that  is  what  I  would  not  do 
by  any  other  wood-seller  in  town." 

"I'd  rather  you  would  measure  it  your- 
self, sir,"  said  Leonard,  blushing  with  plea- 
sure. "  I  meant  to  measure  it  carefully,  but 
there  may  be  some  mistake.  It's  always 
expected  the  purchaser  will  measure  it." 

"I  know  it  is,  and  there  is  generally  need 
enough  of  it;  but,  Leonard,  you've  brought 
me  wood  ever  since  you  were  a  boy  of  six- 


184  KX)D    RULE. 

teen,  and  I  never  knew  a  load  fall  short, 
or  prove  different  from  what  you  told  me. 
Your  loads  are  never  fair  on  the  outside 
and  filled  up  with  trash.  No,  I  am  as 
willing  to  trust  you  as  I  am  myself,  to  give 
me  fair  good  measure." 

Leonard's  heart  beat  proudly  at  this  tri- 
bute to  his  honesty ;  for  Judge  Bailey  was 
still  the  great  man  of  "Woodlee. 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  he  said,  modestly. 
"I  was  trained  to  be  honest,  and  to  never 
try  to  make  a  thing  seem  different  from 
what  it  really  is." 

"I  do  not  doubt  that.  I  do  not  doubt 
it  at  all.  It  runs  in  the  blood.  A  more 
honourable  man  than  your  grandfather, 
the  old  captain,  never  lived.  He  wouldn't 
on  any  account  have  wronged  a  man  out 
of  a  single  cent.  Everybody  knew  just 
where  to  find  him,  and  your  father  too. 
There  never  were  two  honester  men  than 
they;  and  I  am  glad  you  are  going  to 
keep  up  the  family  reputation.  The  truth 
is,  I  offered  you  half  a  dollar  a  cord  more, 


BUYERS   AND    SELLERS.  185 

because  I  knew  your  wood  was  a  good  deal 
better  than  I  can  buy  of  anybody  else." 

"That  is  being  fair  on  your  side  too, 
eir,"  said  Leonard.  "  There  are  some  buyers 
who  screw  us  down  to  the  very  lowest  cent, 
and  who  won't  pay  any  more  for  a  good 
load  than  a  poor  one." 

"I  know  it,  and  it  is  just  a  premium  on 
dishonesty.  I  like  a  good  article,  and  am 
willing  to  pay  a  good  price  for  it." 

"I  wish  it  was  so  with  all  buyers,"  said 
Leonard:  "it  would  make  it  much  easier 
for  us  poor  farmers  who  have  to  sell  as  we 
can." 

"Both  buyers  and  sellers  need  a  higher- 
toned  morality,"  said  the  judge.  "It  is 
a  sad  fact  that  each  tries  to  overreach 
the  other  in  their  bargains ;  that  is,  the 
great  majority  do.  There  are  some  tho- 
rough]^ honest  men  in  all  communities,  I 
hope.  But,  Leonard,  don't  be  calling  your- 
self poor.  You  are  a  thriving,  prosperous 
young  fellow.  The  farm  is  looking  up  now ; 
and  you'll  bring  in  a  splendid  piece  of  grain 


186  A    HAPPY    LABOURER. 

on  that  Bide-hill  next  year.  I  keep  a  little 
eye  on  your  affairs ;  for  I  always  like  to  see 
a  young  man  working  his  way  up  by  hifl 
own  industry  and  integrity." 

The  load  of  wood  was  soon  thrown  off, 
and  Leonard  was  on  his  way  to  the  wood- 
lot  for  a  second,  all  the  happier  for  this 
word  of  encouragement  and  approbation. 

He  was  returning  home  at  night,  tired 
and  hungry,  and  withal  a  little  impatient; 
for  he  had  been  hindered  more  than  usual 
during  the  day,  and  it  was  now  dusk, — 
when  Dr.  Willard  again  called  to  him. 

"I  say,  Roberts,  can't  you  bring  me 
three  cords  of  wood  this  week?" 

"Not  this  week.  I  have  engaged  all  I 
can  possibly  draw  this  week." 

"Early  next  week,  then?  I'm  in  great 
want  of  some." 

"I  can't  promise,  sir,"  said  Leonard. 
"If  the  sleighing  lasts,  I  might  draw  you 
some  the  last  of  the  week."  And  he  drove 
on,  as  the  doctor  made  no  reply,  saying  to 


A    DISCOVERY.  187 

himself,  "I  wonder  he  don't  buy  it  of  Jim 
Baker.     He  wants  to  sell." 

If  he  had  followed  the  doctor  into  his 
house,  he  would  have  found  out  the  reason. 
The  irritable  little  man  was  in  a  state  of 
high  exasperation.  He  had  neglected  to 
get  a  supply  of  wood  at  the  proper  time, 
and  it  was  now  getting  short,  and  the 
weather  was  very  cold. 

"Confound  these  wood-sellers!"  he  ex- 
claimed ;    "  they  are  all  a  set  of  scamps." 

"Not  all,  I  hope,"  replied  his  meek 
little  wife. 

11  That  load  I  got  this  morning  was  a 
perfect  shave  !  It  looked  well  enough  on 
the  outside,  but  it  was  filled  in  with 
wretched  trash, — not  a  stick  of  it  bigger 
than  my  arm,  and  as  crooked  as  a  pot- 
hook. And  then  it  was  piled  so  that  there 
wasn't  more  than  three-quarters  of  a  cord. 
It  was  a  miserable  cheat  throughout.  No, 
I  don't  believe  there's  an  honest  wood- 
seller  in  the  town  !  I've  been  cheated  in 
every  load  I've  bought  this  winter;  some- 


188  A    GOOD    NAME. 

fimes  in  quantity,  and  sometimes  in 
quality,  and  sometimes  in  both.  They're 
a  swindling  set." 

"  The  Baileys  say  young  Roberts  deals 
very  fairly.    Can't  you  get  some  of  him?" 

"No!  there  ain't  the  least  accommoda- 
tion about  him.  He  won't  bring  a  load 
only  just  when  it  suits  his  own  conve- 
nience. But  I  won't  buy  another  load  of 
Baker,  if  I  go  without, — that's  a  settled 
thing  !" 

A  few  days  later,  Leonard  drew  him 
three  cords  of  wood  of  so  good  a  quality 
and  so  fairly  piled,  that  even  the  fault- 
finding doctor  was  compelled  to  own  he 
had  been  honestly  dealt  by. 

"If  there  is  an  honest  wood-seller  in 
the  place,"  he  observed  to  his  wife,  after 
surveying  it  carefully,  "  I  desire  to  deal 
with  him  in  future.  I  am  willing  to  pay 
a  good  price  for  a  good  article  ;  and  this 
young  Roberts  really  seems  to  be  a 
genuine,  honest  fellow.  I  told  him  I'd 
take  all  my  wood  of  him  another  year." 


THE    BEST    LUCK.  189 

Many  who  saw  Leonard  prospering,  and 
by  degrees  becoming  trusted  and  respected 
by  the  best  citizens  of  the  place,  called 
him  a  lucky  fellow  ;  but  his  luck  con- 
sisted merely  in  being  industrious,  punc- 
tual in  fulfilling  his  engagements,  and  in 
always  doing  what  was  honourable  in  all 
his  dealings  with  them, — a  kind  of  luck 
every  young  man  can  share  if  he  only 
chooses  to. 


190  THE    BIRTHDAY. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE    BIRTHDAY. 

During  the  following  spring  and  sum- 
mer, Leonard  worked  early  and  late ;  and 
he  was  repaid  in  autumn  by  the  abundant 
harvests  he  gathered  in.  He  was  -sur- 
prised at  his  own  success  ;  and  when  his 
grain,  wool  and  cheese  were  sold,  and  all 
outstanding  amounts  paid,  he  felt  justified 
in  buying  himself  a  nice  suit  of  clothes  to 
celebrate  the  advent  of  his  majority,  for 
at  his  next  birthday  he  would  be  twenty- 
one.  The  barn  had  been  shingled,  some 
little  additions  made  to  the  house,  and 
Sydney  kept  in  school  through  the  sum- 
mer, only  spending  the  vacations  at  home. 
Leonard,  in  addition,  could  afford  to  make 
a  little  present  to  Mabel, — the  faithful 
helper  in  all  his  toils, — something  useful, 


THE    NEW    DRESJ.  191 

of  course  ;  for  in  the  red  house  nothing 
merely  ornamental  could  be  thought  of, — 
at  least  not  now, — nor  till  Sydney  was 
able  to  support  himself. 

This  led  to  many  private  consultations 
with  his  mother,  in  which  it  was  decided 
that  a  merino  dress  was  what  she  most 
needed,  and  that  it  should  be  a  blue 
merino.  But  who  could  select  it? — Who 
would  be  sure  of  finding  the  right  texture 
and  shade  of  colour?  Not  Leonard,  with 
his  rough,  clumsy  fingers ;  nor  the  mother, 
who  seldom  went  from  home,  except  to 
church.  And  a  merino  dress  so  nice  and 
pretty  as  this  must  be,  was  not  to  be 
found  in  Woodlee,  but  must  be  bought  in 
the  county-town  adjoining.  What  could  be 
more  natural  than  to  ask  Susan  Lee,  who 
went  there  frequently,  to  make  the  pur- 
chase ? 

This  was  probably  the  reason  why  Leon- 
ard called  to  see  her  several  times,  and 
walked  home  from  singing-school  with  her 
more  frequently  than  usual,  having  many 


192  THE    TEA-PARTY. 

little  agreeable  chats  with  her.  It  was 
by  no  means  an  easy  thing  to  decide 
just  what  that  blue  merino  dress  should 
be! 

Leonard's  birthday  was  on  the  second 
of  November,  and  his  mother  and  Mabel 
planned  to  give  a  little  party  on  that  day. 
Eight  or  ten  young  girls  of  his  own  age 
were  to  be  asked  to  a  cosy  tea-drinking, 
and  an  equal  number  of  young  men  in- 
vited to  join  them  in  the  evening;  for 
such  was  the  etiquette  of  Woodlee. 

Leonard  and  Mabel,  when  the  evening 
came,  were  both  arrayed  in  their  new  ap- 
parel. His  was  a  suit  of  dark-blue  cloth, 
and,  having  on  this  great  occasion  indulged 
in  the  extravagance  of  having  it  cut  by 
the  best  tailor  in  the  county,  it  fitted  him 
extremely  well,  and  was  very  becoming 
to  his  bright,  manly  face  and  well-de- 
veloped figure.  He  was  a  son  any  mother 
might  be  proud  of,  standing  there  with  his 
frank,  honest  face,  his  strong  arm,  and  his 
brave,  true  heart,  which  would  never  prove 


a  mother's  pride.  193 

false  to  friend  or  foe.  She  was  proud  of 
him,  and  rejoiced  in  him ;  and,  as  she 
gazed  at  him  with  tender  eyes,  she  felt  a 
longing,  almost  acute  enough  to  be  painful, 
to  have  his  father  and  grandfather  there 
to  see  how  good  and  noble  he  looked,  how 
worthy  to  be  their  son  and  the  master  of 
the  old  red  house. 

Did  they  behold  him?  Were  there 
unseen  eyes  gazing  fondly  on  the  boy 
they  had  once  loved,  and  rejoicing  in  the 
bright  promise  of  his  manhood  ?  Who  can 
say  ?  Who  knows  how  thin  the  veil  may 
be  which  hangs  between  us  and  the.  spi- 
ritual world  and  the  beings  who  inhabit 
it? 

And  Mabel,  the  good  sister,  always 
thoughtful  of  others  and  unmindful  of 
herself,  her  cheeks  glowing  with  pleasura- 
ble excitement,  watching  to  see  that  no 
one  was  neglected  or  uncomfortable,  and 
never  once  thinking  how  becoming  that 
soft  shade  of  blue  was  to  her  fair  cheek, — 
she,   too,  no  less  than   Leonard,  was  the 

17 


194  JOHN    HALL. 

joy  and  pride  of  her  mother's  heart  that 
night. 

Leonard's  old  friend,  John  Hall,  was 
there, — a  tall,  broad-shouldered  youth, 
ready  to  help  on  with  all  the  fun  and 
frolic;  Sydney  was  there  too,  standing  by 
his  mother's  side, — slender,  light-haired, 
with  almost  feminine  delicacy  of  feature, 
a  perfect  contrast  to  Leonard  in  personal 
appearance.  He  looked  very  young,  and 
peculiarly  unfitted  for  any  hardship  ;  and 
one  seeing  him  did  not  wonder  that  pro- 
tecting arms  were  thrown  around  him, 
and  that  the  stronger  brother  and  sister 
so  eagerly  sought  to  shield  him  from  all 
danger  and  exposure. 

There  wTas  another  old  friend  of  our's 
also  present, — Susan  Lee.  With  her  trim 
little  figure,  her  black  eyes  flashing  with 
mirth  and  mischief,  and  a  colour  on  her 
cheeks  which  could  only  have  been  caught 
from  the  sunny  side  of  the  peaches  in  her 
father's  garden,  she  was  now  blooming  out 
into  a  very  attractive  maiden.  She  entered 


AN    ERA.  195 

with  a  keen  relish  into  all  the  innocent 
gayeties  of  the  evening ;  yet  there  was  a 
certain  shyness  in  her  eye,  a  dropping  of 
the  lid,  a  warm  suffusion  of  the  cheek,  when 
she  met  the  gaze  of  the  young  hero  of  the 
hour.  Perhaps  no  one  noticed  this  but 
Mabel ;  but  it  awakened  in  her  heart  a 
train  of  new  and  anxious  thought,  which 
kept  her  waking  long  after  the  house  was 
buried  in  silence  and  all  eyes  but  her's 
sealed  in  sleep.  But  at  length  she  was 
able  to  put  aside  the  anxiety ;  and  her  true 
woman's  heart,  just  even  in  its  tenderness, 
recognized  the  fitness  of  that  divine  law 
which  binds  human  hearts  together  in  a 
union  closer  and  more  sacred  than  that 
even  of  brother  and  sister,  mother  and 
child. 

To  Leonard  himself  the  day  had  not 
passed  without  many  serious  reflections.  It 
was  an  era  in  his  life.  He  had  reached  the 
Rubicon  which  separated  youth  from  man- 
hood, and  must  now  face  new  duties  and 
dangers.     That  night,  after  the  enjoyment 


196  MANHOOD. 

and  excitement  of  the  evening  had  passed 
away,  he  stood  looking  out  of  his  cham- 
ber-window. It  was  a  clear,  frosty  night, 
and  the  heavens  were  glowing  with  count- 
less myriads  of  stars.  What  stirring 
thoughts  came  to  him  as  he  gazed, — what 
memories  of  his  boyhood,  when  he  sat  by 
the  door-stone  and  heard  his  grandfather 
talk  of  his  young  days  and  of  Gilbert 
Watson's  death-bed  !  It  was  a  beautiful 
image  he  had  in  his  mind  of  that  dear 
old  grandfather,  with  his  snowy  locks  and 
placid  features;  and  there  now  came  dis- 
tinctly to  his  recollection  many  wise  things 
he  had  heard  him  say  about  life  and  its 
duties.  What  a  different  meaning  the 
words  had  now,  from  what  they  had 
when  he  heard  them  with  boyish  ears  ! 
Yes,  he  was  no  longer  a  boy,  but  a  man  ; 
and  he  pondered  seriously  that  night  what 
manhood  meant,  and  in  what  consisted  a 
man's  prerogatives  and  privileges,  a  man's 
responsibilities  and  duties. 

As  we  have  said,  Leonard  did  not  shrink 


MANHOOD.  197 

from  encountering  the  hardships  of  a  poor 
man's  life.  Instead  of  this,  he  rather 
rejoiced  that  he  had  his  own  way  to 
make.  It  would  not  have  suited  him  to 
be  a  mere  recipient, — to  hold  large  posses- 
sions which  he  had  done  nothing  towards 
earning.  He  looked  forward  hopefully 
into  life ;  he  meant  to  make  it  something 
good  and  noble,  something  rich  and  pre- 
cious. Life  was  a  gift  from  God,  and  he 
hoped  not  to  waste  or  fritter  it  away,  but 
to  fill  it  with  worthy  deeds, — quiet,  every- 
day home-deeds, — for  Leonard  was  not 
imaginative,  and  never  dreamed  of  doingr 
brilliant  or  startling  things, — but  yet 
honourable,  useful  deeds,  which  would 
make  his  little  world  the  better  and  hap- 
pier for  his  living  in  it. 

Those  glittering  stars,  holding  on  their 
course  so  silently  in  the  broad  heavens, 
had  been  shining  there  just  so  serenely  since 
he  had  watched  them,  when  a  child  at  his 
grandfather's  knee,  with  a  vague  feeling 
of   awe   and  admiration.      They  changed 

17* 


198  MANHOOD. 

not ;  but  his  thoughts,  his  hopes,  his  life, — 
how  these  had  changed  since  then !  How 
they  had  all  deepened  and  intensified: 
And  the  heart  of  the  young  man  glowed 
within  him  as  he  looked  upward  ;  for  the 
Creator  of  those  worlds,  Himself  more 
serene,  more  unchanging,  than  they,  waa 
his  God,  his  Father,  the  source  of  his  life ; 
the  fountain  from  which  flowed  forth  all 
the  strength  to  will  and  to  do  which  nerved 
his  heart;  the  Being  to  whom  he  was  in- 
dissolubly  united,  and  for  whose  blessing 
and  guidance  he  might  hope  in  every  step 
of  the  life  before  him. 

So  the  new  life  of  Leonard  Roberts — hie 
ma?is  life — opened  with  fervent  thanks- 
giving and  earnest  prayer,  offered  in  the 
presence  of  those  shining  ^tars  to  their 
great  Creator, — offered  in  faith  and  sin- 
cerity, and  doubtless  heard  by  Him  who 
answereth  prayer. 


VOTING.  199 


CHAPTER  XV. 

VOTING. 

The  first  town-meeting  held  in  Woodlee 
after  Leonard  attained  his  majority  was  for 
the  choice  of  a  Governor  and  State  Sena- 
tors and  Representatives.  It  is  to  be  hoped 
that  few  young  men  exercise  the  elective 
franchise  for  the  first  time  without  some 
serious  thought  of  their  duties  as  freemen 
and  citizens.  To  Leonard,  with  his  early 
training  and  the  counsels  and  warnings  of 
his  grandfather  still  fresh  in  his  memory, 
it  was  an  event  of  unusual  interest.  How 
well  he  remembered  going  to  the  town- 
meeting  with  his  grandfather  the  last  day 
of  his  life,  and  his  telling  him  and  John, 
"One  of  these  days  you'll  have  to  make  a 
serious  business  of  this.  See  to  it  that  you 
allers  vote  for  the  man  who's  honest  and 


200  VOTING. 

true  to  his  country;  for  if  you  vote  for  bad 
men,  your  having  a  right  to  vote  will  be  a 
curse,  and  not  a  blessing." 

Leonard,  now  that  the  time  had  come, 
honestly  wished  to  be  a  loyal  citizen  and  a 
true  patriot.  He  had,  of  course,  no  political 
influence.  It  was  only  his  one  vote  to  cast ; 
but  he  knew  that  if  every  man  looked  well 
to  his  one  vote,  the  right  result  would  cer- 
tainly be  secured :  so  that  it  was  important 
to  cast  that  honestly  and  in  the  fear  of  God. 
It  was  the  one  talent  given  to  him,  and  for 
which  God  held  him  responsible. 

But  one  difficulty  met  him  at  the  thresh- 
old. Each  man  could  not  vote  for  the 
person  he  individually  considered  the  best 
man  in  the  State  for  Governor  or  whatever 
office  was  to  be  filled  :  if  he  did,  there  would 
be  as  manv  different  men  voted  for  as  there 
were  voters,  and  endless  confusion  would 
ensue.  Hence  there  must  be  some  organi- 
zation, some  system.  He  found  that  such 
an  organization  did  actually  exist.  There 
were  two  great  parties,  holding  opinions 


VOTING.  201 

widely  different  on  matters  of  both  State 
and  national  policy,  and  each  of  these  had 
met  together  and  selected  a  candidate  who 
was  supposed  to  represent  the  views  of  the 
party  nominating  him,  and  was  expected 
to  carry  out  these  views  if  elected.  For 
one  or  the  other  of  these  he  must  vote  in 
order  to  have  his  vote  of  any  avail.  But 
what  if  neither  of  these  candidates  held 
such  opinions  or  bore  such  a  character  as 
he  could  honestly  approve  ?  What  would 
be  his  duty  then?  Not  to  vote  at  all,  to 
vote  by  himself,  or  to  vote  for  whichever  of 
the  two  candidates  he  considered  nearest 
right,  though  he  might  deem  him  wrong 
in  some  essential  points  ?  Fortunately,  this 
was  not  a  practical  question  at  this  election, 
for  he  had  confidence,  both  politically  and 
morally,  in  the  nominees  of  one  party;  but 
he  could  not  help  feeling  that  at  some  time 
it  might  perplex  him,  and  he  laid  it  by  for 
careful  consideration .  "I  wish  I  had  grand  - 
father  to  go  to  now,  as  I  had  when  I  was  a 
little  boy,"  he  said  to  himself.     "I  am  sure 


202  VOTING. 

he  could  answer  this  question  for  me."  But 
he  knew  that  wisdom  and  guidance  from  a 
still  higher  source  were  promised  him,  and 
that  gave  him  confidence  and  strength. 

"Two  things  a  man  in  this  country  has 
to  do,"  old  Captain  Roberts  had  said,  long 
years  before.  "One  is  to  vote;  the  other, 
to  learn  how  to  vote." 

Leonard  hoped  he  had  learned  how  to 
vote  ;  at  least,  he  had  tried  to  learn.  He 
had  informed  himself  as  well  as  lie  could 
about  the  condition  and  government  of  his 
country,  had  carefully  studied  the  Consti- 
tution of  the  United  States  and  that  of  his 
own  State,*  and  made  himself  to  some 
degree  familiar  with  the  opinions  of  the 
prevailing  political  parties.  History,  espe- 
cially the  history  of  his  own  country,  had 


*  In  one  of  the  States  (perhaps  in  others)  a  school-book 
is  in  use  which  describes  the  leading  duties  of  citizens  and 
officers,  and  the  general  laws  of  the  nation  and  State,  in  a 
simple  and  concise  series  of  questions  and  answers.  It 
seems  very  desirable  that  our  young  men  so  soon  to  be 
ruling  citizens  should  become  familiar  with  the  national 
and  State  Constitution.-. 


VOTING.  203 

been  his  favourite  reading.  He  and  John 
Hall  had  had  warm  disputes  about  the 
comparative  merits  of  Hannibal  and  Scipio, 
and  other  generals  of  ancient  times,  as  long 
ago  as  when  they  sat  on  the  same  bench  at 
the  public  school  and  studied  the  History 
of  Rome  together ;  and  in  later  years  he 
had  read  attentively  such  works  of  history 
as  he  could  procure,  and  also  the  speeches 
of  our  members  of  Congress  and  other 
prominent  men.  Of  course,  at  his  age  his 
views  were  crude,  and  not  so  well  balanced 
as  they  would  be  twenty  years  later  ;  but 
he  had  decided  opinions,  and  had  formed 
them  as  honestly  as  he  knew  how.  He 
believed  one  party  was  maintaining  sound 
principles,  such  as  God  approved  :  so  that 
his  way  was  clear  before  him  in  this  election 
at  least;  and  he  went  to  the  polls  in  fine 
spirits,  proud  to  be  a  voter,  and  proud  of 
being  an  American  citizen,  with  the  rights 
and  privileges  of  that  position. 

Going  over  to  town,  he  fell  in  with  his 
old  crony,  John  Hall.     Their  early  friend- 


204  VOTING. 

ship  still  continued,  though  they  were  not 
exactly  intimate  now;  for  the  two  acted 
from  different  motives,  and  often  took 
opposite  views  of  things.  It  was  so  in 
politics,  and  it  was  well  understood  by 
both  that  they  would  vote  different  tickets. 

"One  thing  I  can  tell  you,  Leonard," 
said  John,  after  a  little  good-natured  ban- 
tering :  ' '  your  ticket  won't  be  elected :  you 
may  be  sure  of  that." 

11  Perhaps  not,"  said  Leonard ;  "but  with 
that  I  have  nothing  to  do.  I  shall  do  all 
I  can  to  elect  him  whom  I  believe  to  be 
the  best  man  ;  and  that  is  all  I  have  to 
do." 

"I  don't  want  to  belong  to  the  losing 
party  all  my  life,"  said  John. 

"I  hope  I  sha'n't,"  answered  Leonard, 
laughing;  "and  I  expect  the  right  party 
will  prevail  another  year,  if  it  doesn't  this. 
But  if  I  knew  it  wouldn't,  I  should  vote 
for  it  just  the  same." 

"Your "head  always  was  full  of  notions, 
Leonard,  and  always  will  be,  I  suppose. 


DRUDGING.  205 

You'll  never  have  any  influence,  with  your 
impracticable  ideas  of  right  and  wrong. 
We've  got  to  take  the  world  as  it  is,  and 
accommodate  ourselves  to  it.  Now,  I  mean 
to  make  myself  a  position  and  be  some- 
body. I  don't  intend  to  stay  in  this  mean, 
out-of-the-way  place.  I've  got  as  much 
talent  as  half  the  men  who  go  to  our  large 
cities  and  get  to  be  the  smartest  men  there. 
If  I  stay  on  here  and  drudge,  I  shall  never 
be  of  any  account,  that's  certain." 

"i~  never  expect  to  do  any  thing  but 
drudge,  as  you  call  it,"  said  Leonard.  "I 
expect  to  stay  here  all  my  life  and  work 
hard  for  a  living;  but  I  mean  to  respect 
myself,  and  to  be  respectable,  for  all 
that." 

"I  won't  be  a  farmer,"  said  John.      "I 

never  was  made  for  that.     I'll  tell  you, 

Leonard,  what  I  am  cr0ina  to  do, — though  it 

isn't  to  be  spoken  of  just  yet.    I've  got  an 

uncle  at  the  South  who  is  a  lawyer :  he  will 

let  me  study  law  with  him,  and  I  am  going 

down  to  him  next  full.     I  can't  afford  to  go 
is 


206  ASSURANCE. 

th  rough  college  ;  but  you  know  Clay  and  a 
good  many  other  great  men  never  did  that. 
I  shall  get  a  good  start  with  Uncle  "William, 
and,  once  started,  I  can  make  my  own  way. 
I  have  got  talent  enough  to  get  on.  I  feel 
sure  of  that." 

"  I  dare  say  you  have,  John,"  said  Leon- 
ard, sympathizingly.  "You  always  could 
do  what  you  had  a  mind  to.  But  you  don't 
like  to  work,  John.  That  will  be  the  trouble 
with  you,  I  am  afraid." 

"But  you  will  see  I  shall  work  when  I 
get  something  to  do  that  suits  me.  As  you 
say,  I  could  always  do  what  I  had  a  mind 
to  ;  and  I  have  a  mind  to  make  myself  a 
distinguished  lawyer,  and  I  shall/" 

Leonard  wondered  whether  one  who  had 
never  yet  applied  himself  to  any  thing 
could,  at  twenty-one,  turn  over  a  new  leaf 
and  work  perseveringly  in  a  profession. 

"Well,  John,"  he  said,  "I  trust  you  will 
succeed,  and  make  good  old  Woodlee  proud 
of  you,  some  day.  But  when  you  are  a 
great  man  I  hope  you  will  think  more  of 


A    PROPHECY.  207 

what  is  for  the  good  of  the  country  than 
most  great  men  do,  and  not  merely  look 
after  your  own  interest." 

"Oh,  of  course  I  shall.  At  first,  I  must 
think  how  to  get  on  myself;  but  when  I've 
got  a  position,  then  I  can  act  independently 
and  for  the  public  good,  you  know." 

John  Hall  was  cherishing  the  delusive 
dream  which  has  so  often  beguiled  ambi- 
tious young  men  into  acting  from  expe- 
diency at  first.  But  whoever  hopes  to  be 
an  upright  politician  must  begin  his  career 
by  being  upright  as  a  man.  Beginning 
with  sacrificing  principle,  he  will  find  it 
at  every  step  more  difficult  to  become 
straightforward;  and  should  he  gain  place 
and  power,  he  will  be  trammelled  in  a  thou- 
sand ways  he  little  dreamed  of  at  first 

Arrived  at  the  green,  as  the  little  space 
around  Woodlee  church  and  town-hall  was 
called, — for  it  had  a  town-hall  now, — they 
found  a  crowd  already  there.  As  they  came 
up,  Judge  Bailey,  who  was  standing  near 
the  door,  seeing  Leonard,  spoke  to  him. 


208  A    DILEMMA. 

"Going  to  vote  to-day  for  the  first  time," 
said  lie,  "and  to  vote  in  the  right  way,  I 
hope?  Shall  I  give  you  a  ticket?  I  have 
some  here."  And  he  handed  out  a  printed 
ballot. 

Leonard  had  a  great  respect  for  Judge 
Bailey,  as  great  as  for  any  man  in  town ; 
and,  besides,  he  had  received  such  kind 
treatment  from,  him  at  all  times,  that  he 
really  would  have  liked  to  take  the  ticket. 
"Take  it:  if  you  do  not  use  it,  he'll  never 
know  it,"  said  an  insinuating  voice  within; 
but  it  was  at  once  silenced  by  the  better 
voice  of 'conscience.  Leonard  felt  that  he 
might  as  well  be  outspoken,  and  have  it 
understood  on  which  side  he  should  vote : 
so  he  said,  respectfully,  though  colouring 
deeply, — 

' '  I  have  decided  to  vote  the  other  ticket, 
sir. 

"You  have!  Why,  I  should  like  to 
know?"  asked  the  judge,  coolly. 

Leonard  was  still  more  painfully  embar- 
rassed.    He  was  never  fluent,  and  was  now 


PRINCIPLE.  209 

much  perplexed  at  being  questioned  by  one 
so  much  his  superior  in  years  and  station; 
but  the  voice  within  whispered,  "Be  true 
to  yourself:  no  shirking  nor  equivocating!" 
So  he  said,  hesitatingly, — 

"Because  I  think  they  uphold  right 
principles,  sir." 

"And  it  is  easy  at  twenty-one  to  know 
exactly  what  right  principles  are!"  said  the 
judge,  sarcastically.  "A  few  years  hence, 
when  you  are  a  little  wiser,  you  won't, 
perhaps,  find  it  quite  so  easy." 

"I'll  take  that  ticket,  if  you  please, 
judge,"  said  John,  willing  to  show  the 
judge  what  side  he  had  espoused. 

"Your  convictions,  then,  are  different 
from  Leonard's,"  said  the  judge,  smiling. 
"I  am  glad  to  find  you  are  going  to  start 
right."  And  the  judge  and  John  walked 
off  together,  the  former  thinking  to  himself, 
"Well,  at  twenty-one  I  believe  I  was  just 
as  confident  and  frank  as  young  Roberts 
is."  And  he  sighed,  and  half  wished  he 
was  a  boy  again. 


18* 


210  PRINCIPLE. 

"Can  it  be  that  I  am  wrong?"  thought 
Leonard,  as  he  looked  after  them.  "The 
judge  is  so  much  older  and  wiser  than  I,  he 
ought  to  know."  But  he  remembered  that 
he  had  not  made  up  his  mind  hastily,  but 
deliberately  and  after  asking  to  be  guided. 
"I  must  abide  by  my  convictions:  it's  the 
only  fair  and  honest  thing  to  do,"  he  said 
to  himself,  as  he  went  up  the  steps.  He 
entered  the  hall,  and  as  soon  as  the  polls 
were  open,  he  went  up  and  quietly  deposited 
his  vote. 

When  he  came  out  of  the  hall,  there 
were,  as  usual,  a  good  many  standing  about, 
discussing  the  news  of  the  day  or  cracking 
jokes,  while  waiting  for  the  votes  to  be 
counted.  In  one  of  these  groups  stood 
Colonel  Towne,  an  old  and  influential 
citizen  of  Woodlee,  who  had  been  a  good 
friend  both  to  Leonard's  father  and  grand- 
father. Seeing  Leonard,  he  spoke  to  him, 
and  congratulated  him  on  having  arrived 
at  the  honour  of  depositing  his  first  vote. 

"I  don't  know,  for  my  part,  whether  it's 


RIGHT    AND    WRONG.  211 

a  tiling  to  be  glad  of  or  not,"  said  Deacon 
Whipple,  another  old  inhabitant.  "This 
voting  is  a  dreadfully  perplexing  business, 
it's  so  hard  to  tell  what's  right  and  what's 
wrong  now-a-days." 

"It  always  was,  I  suspect,"  said  the 
colonel,  rather  dryly. 

"Why,  no;  things  wa'n't  so  mixed  up 
when  we  were  young,  colonel.  Then  there 
were  the  old  Democrats  and  Federals,  and 
they  were  as  far  apart  as  light  and  dark- 
ness ;  but  now  there  are  half  a  dozen  parties, 
each  with  some  right  in't  and  some  wrong, 
and  all  so  tangled  and  mixed  up  together. 
a  man  don't  know  what's  what,  without 
he's  got  sharper  wits  than  I  have." 

"But  there  is  a  right  and  there  is  a 
wrong,"  said  the  colonel;  "and  I  believe 
if  a  man  honestly  tries  to  find  the  right, 
he  can, — in  politics  as  well  as  in  other 
things." 

'  You  go  for  '  the  higher  law,'  as  they 
say,  then,  colonel?" 

"  Certainly  I  do.    Every  Christian  citizen 


212  RIGHT    AND    WRONG. 

must.  Demagogues  and  mere  party  men 
may  sneer  at  the  phrase,  but  every  man's 
conscience  tells  him  that  all  questions  should 
1  >e  brought  to  this  one  standard : — Is  it  right 
<  >r  wrong  in  the  sight  of  God  ?  ' 

11  But  we  are  to  be  governed  by  human 
laws  in  political  affairs." 

11  That  is  true  ;  but  I  do  not  believe  that 
God  is  therefore  to  be  left  out  of  the  account. 
It  is  because  I  believe  the  laws  of  our  land 
are  based  on  Gods  laws,  and  in  accordance 
with  law,  that  I  yield  a  hearty  allegiance 
to  them.  I  don't  think  they  are  perfect; 
but,  if  ever  public  men  were  guided  from 
above,  I  think  those  were  who  founded  our 
government;  and  therefore  I  believe  they 
laid  its  foundations  deep  and  strong  enough 
to  resist  all  the  commotions  that  agitate  the 
community.  These  party  distinctions  you 
speak  of,  deacon,  are  chiefly  about  local 
and  temporary  matters,  and  will  pass  away 
as  others  have  done  ;  and  in  a  few  years 
people  will  wonder  they  were  ever  so  much 
excited  over  them,  while  underneath  the 


EIGHT    AND    WRONG.  213 

tumult  lie  the  foundations  of  law  and  order, 

still  firm  and  unchangeable. 

'  Yes,"  he  added,  seeing  Leonard  was 

listening  to  the  conversation,  "  the  thing 
I  would  most  earnestly  impress  on  a  young 
man  who  is  just  commencing  his  political 
life,  as  our  young  friend  here  is,  is  this  — 
Always  uphold  what  you  believe  to  be 
nght  m  the  sight  of  God,  in  politics 
berve  him  in  this  as  well  as  in  other 
things." 

"A  man  won't  make  much  headway  in 
the  world  if  he  sticks  to  such  notions  as 
those,  I  reckon,"  said  Jim  Baker,  who 
had  joined  the  group. 

Perhaps  he  won't  get  into  office    if 
that  is  what  you  mean,"  said  the  colonel 
with  some  severity  in  his  tone.    "And  yet 
I  believe  in  my  very  soul— and  I've  had 
some  experience  in  public  matters— that 
the   highest   right   is   the    highest   expe- 
diency; m  other  words,  that  doing  right 
'is  the  surest  way  to  success,  in  any  true 
meaning  of   the    term.     Let   a   man    be 


214  KUBHROOM& 

thorn  uglily  upright,  and  in  time  he  will 
gain  the  confidence  of  the  community ; 
they  know  where  to  find  him  ;  while  one 
who  has  no  conscience,  but  merely  wants 
to  be  popular  and  get  the  most  votes, 
however  he  may  succeed  and  be  admired 
and  followed  for  a  time,  is  pretty  sure  to 
be  sooner  or  later  understood  and  despised. 
How  many  men  we  have  seen  in  office  of 
this  stamp,  who  rode  on  the  top  wave  of 
popular  applause  for  a  few  months  or 
years,  and  where  are  they  now?" 

"But,  after  all,"  said  the  deacon,  "there's 
a  good  many  don't  want  a  man  to  be  too 
honest.  They'll  vote  the  quicker  for  one 
who  goes  for  his  party  right  or  wrong, 
without  too  many  conscientious  scrupk  - 

"Yes,  there  are  a  great  many  such 
voters,  no  doubt,"  replied  the  colonel. — 
"far  too  many;  but  I  do  hope  we  are  not 
yet  sunk  so  low  that  they  constitute  the 
majority  in  our  country.  I  have  faith  in 
the  people  yet,  and  that  they  are  capable 
of    governing   themselves.      I  had   rather 


OUR    SAFETY.  215 

trust  the  government  to  them,  at  any  rate, 
than  to  any  one  man  or  any  set  of  men, 
such  as  rule  in  most  other  countries.  But 
to  do  this,"  he  said,  earnestly,  "our  people 
must  be  kept  intelligent  and  virtuous. 
That  is  what  the  safety  of  our  nation  de- 
pends on, — the  honesty  and  virtue  of  the 
people, — the  common  people  !" 

"Just  what  grandfather  used  to  say," 
thought  Leonard,  as  he  walked  away. 
And,  he  thought,  perhaps  when  he  was 
perplexed  he  should  venture  to  go  to 
the  good  colonel  for  advice. 


216     EIGHTEEN   HUNDRED  AND  SIXTY. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

EIGHTEEN    HUNDRED    AND    SIXTY. 

We  pass  over  another  terra  of  years, 
and  then  look  in  again  on  our  old  friends 
in  the  red  house.  Leonard  Roberts  is  now 
thirty  years  of  age, — a  quiet,  thoughtful, 
and  rather  grave  man, — seeming,  as  he 
always  has  seemed,  a  little  older  than  his 
years  ;  not  in  looks,  for  he  is  in  the  very 
perfection  of  manly  vigour,  hale,  hearty 
and  intensely  active ;  but  in  character  and 
purpose.  We  saw  him  when  a  boy,  pre- 
paring for  manhood  by  patiently  enduring 
hardships  and  by  being  loyal  to  truth  and 
duty ;  we  saw  him  when  a  young  man,  still 
loyal  to  God  and  the  right.  We  are  now 
to  look  at  him  as  a  man  in  the  prime  of 
life,  and  find  what  fruits  these  preparatory 
vears  have  ripened  into  maturity. 


A    HAPPY    HOME.  217 

The  red  house, — there  it  stands  on  the 
brow  of  the  hill,  just  the  same  modest, 
snug,  unpretending  little  dwelling  it  always 
was,  sheltered  by  the  same  chestnut-trees, 
now  grown  large  and  venerable.  It  is 
very  little  changed  in  any  respect.  But 
across  the  road  there  is  to  be  seen  another 
house,  which  is  altogether  a  new  feature 
in  the  landscape.  That  is  a  cottage  also  ; 
but  it  is  larger  and  more  modern-looking, 
with  piazzas  about  it,  and  is  painted  white, 
with  green  Venetian  blinds.  In  that  we 
shall  find  Leonard  Roberts  established  ; 
and  there,  too,  is  Susan  Lee, — no  longer 
the  young  girl,  but  a  faithful  wife  and 
mother.  "How  little  she  is  changed!"  we 
say,  at  first;  but  yet  when  we  wratch  her 
going  about  her  household  duties  with  a 
quick  step  and  careful  eye,  caressing  or 
correcting  the  children,  or  welcoming  her 
husband  home  with  bright  smiles,  we  feel 
that,  though  the  same,  she  is  not  the  same. 
That  change  from  the  young  maiden  to 
the  matron  modifies  her  face,  movements 

19 


218  A    HAPPY    HOME. 

and  expression ;  but  the  change  well  be- 
comes her  ;  and  she  is  more  pleasing,  now 
that  her  overflowing  spirits  are  toned 
down  a  little.  Yet  she  is  still  a  contrast 
to  her  husband.  If  he  is  grave,  she  is 
sprightly.  If  he  is  reserved  and  slow  to 
express  his  thoughts,  she  is  mercurial  and 
talkative.  If  he  looks  cautiously  into 
the  future,  providing  against  emergencies, 
she  makes  the  most  of  to-day,  brightening 
every  moment  by  her  never-failing  flow 
of  spirits.  Yet  these  differing  traits  do 
not  produce  a  discord,  but  rather  a  har- 
mony; and  few  homes  are  neater,  sunnier 
or  happier  than  this  of  Leonard  Roberts. 
Of  course,  where  there  are  three  chil- 
dren there  are  plenty  of  irritations  and 
trials.  Of  course  there  are  sleepless  nights 
and  wearisome  days,  and  whole  weeks 
when  the  burdens  of  life  seem  to  press 
very  heavily.  Of  course  sickness  comes, 
and  disappointments  and  losses  of  differ- 
ent kinds ;  but  in  the  midst  of  all,  the 
hearty  desire  to  do  God's  will  and  to  be 


A    HAPPY    HOME.  219 

just  and  kind  to  one  another  operates  like 
a  charm — nay,  far  better  than  any  magic 
charm — in  spreading  a  genial  and  health- 
ful atmosphere  through  all  the  house,  calm- 
ing, elevating  and  strengthening  every 
inmate.  When  sorrows  press  heaviest, 
there  is  often  found  in  that  home  a  sweet 
peace  and  resignation  almost  better  than 
joy ;  and  when  the  clouds  are  lifted,  there 
come  gratitude  and  thanksgiving  to  the 
good  Father  who  has  never  forsaken  them 
in  the  darkest  hour. 

The  oldest  child  is  named  after  the  dear 
old  grandfather,  Thomas, — Tom  they  call 
him  :  he  is  now  a  sturdy  little  fellow  of 
seven,  wide  awake,  and  rather  boisterous, 
save  when  his  father's  eye  is  on  him  ; 
Lucy  is  fair  and  lovely,  with  all  kinds  of 
winsome  ways  ;  and  the  baby,  Charlie,  as 
yet  like  nothing  in  particular,  except  that 
he  holds  the  whole  house  tributary  to  his 
slightest  wish.  How  odd  all  this  seems  ! 
for  to  us  it  appears  but  a  little  while  since 
Leonard  was  a  little  fellow  himself,  trudg- 


220  THE  ORPHAN?. 

ing  down   the  hill  to  school,  and  meeting 
Susan  Lee  at  the  corner  of  the  lane. 

It  is  easy  to  see  that  Leonard  lias  pros- 
pered in  his  business.  Every  thing  on 
the  premises,  house,  barns,  aheds,  fences, 
show  the  presence  of  a  thrifty  manager. 
Indeed,  he  is  considered  the  model  farmer 
of  the  county.  He  has  put  up  commo- 
dious buildings,  bought  back  all  the  land 
which  originally  belonged  to  the  farm, 
and  added  to  it  a  broad  strip  of  meadow. 
He  has  converted  woodlands  into  grain- 
fields;  and  this  golden  month  of  October, 
1860,  finds  him  free  from  debt,  and  gath- 
ering in  abundant  harvests.  Yes,  a  steady, 
upright,  well-to-do  farmer  is  Leonard 
Roberts, — a  man  universally  respected 
and  looked  up  to  ;  and  he  has  attained 
this  position  by  being  simply  honest,  in- 
dustrious and  frugal,  and  quietly  doing 
his  duty  day  by  day. 

If  we  step  into  the  red  house,  we  shall 
find  young  children  there  too.  Whose  can 
they  be?     Not  Mabel's;   for  we  feel  sure, 


THE    ORPHANS.  221 

as  we  look  at  her  quiet  face,  that  she  has 
always  stayed  at  home.  Not  Sydney's ;  for 
he  too  is  still  unmarried.  No:  they  are 
Lucy's  two  motherless  little  ones.  We 
have  said  the  passing  years  had  brought 
trials.  Perhaps  one  of  the  heaviest  was 
when  the  news  reached  the  red  house  that 
Lucy  was  dangerously  ill,  and  destitute  of 
the  comforts  and  even  the  necessaries  of 
life,  in  her  Western  home.  Her  husband 
had  proved  an  intemperate  man ;  and  in  a 
new  country,  among  strangers,  Lucy's  once 
light,  proud  heart  had  been  well  nigh 
broken  by  neglect  and  hardship.  With  a 
true  wife's  desire  to  shield  her  husband, 
she  had  concealed  all  his  faults  from  her 
home-friends;  and  it  was  only  through 
others  they  at  last  heard  of  her  condition. 
After  anxious  consultation,  it  was  decided 
that  Leonard  should  go  to  Wisconsin  and 
bring  her  home  if  it  seemed  best,  or,  in 
any  event,  do  whatever  he  could  for  her 
relief. 

But  he  returned  without    her.     Alas ! 

19* 


222  THE    ORPHANS. 

before  his  arrival  she  had  gone  where  no 
voice  of  friendship  could  reach  her  more  ! 
Her  husband  had  sunk  into  a  mere  brute ; 
and,  waiting  only  long  enough  to  see  her  de- 
cently interred,  Leonard  retraced  his  steps, 
bringing  with  him  the  two  little  children 
she  had  left.  One  of  them  was  scarcely 
more  than  an  infant ;  but  he  managed  to 
get  them  home,  and  to  lay  them  safely  in 
his  mother's  arms. 

11  There  is  no  one  but  us  to  care  for 
them/'  he  said,  "and  I  knew  you  would 
be  glad  to  have  them  with  us,  mother. 
They  are  all  that  is  left  of  Lucy  now, — 
our  dear,  light-hearted  Lucy  !" 

Yes,  the  mother  was  glad  to  have  them 
with  her  ;  and  it  was  settled  they  should 
stay  with  her  and  Mabel;  but  the  real 
burden  of  maintaining  them  must  fall  on 
Leonard.  This  he  had  foreseen ;  but  during 
that  night  spent  on  the  Western  prairie, 
amid  the  desolation  of  Lucy's  home,  he 
had  decided  that  it  was  right  for  him  to 
do  it.     Some  in  his  situation  would  have 


THE   ORPHANS.  ZZi> 

said  they  were  heavily  burdened  already 
with  a  wife,  mother,  sister,  and  three  chil- 
dren to  maintain ;  but  Leonard  did  not  say 
this.  If  it  was  a  right  thing  to  do,  then 
he  must  do  it  and  take  the  consequences. 
He  had  that  practical  faith  in  God's 
promises  that  made  him  fearless  where 
manifest  duty  was  concerned,  and  always 
sure  that  what  ought  to  be  done  could  be 
done. 

"Thank  God,"  he  had  said  to  himself 
that  night,  "I  have  a  wife  whom  I  can 
trust.  I  know  Susan  will  be  even  more 
willing  than  I  to  do  what  is  right,  and  to 
make  all  the  sacrifices  that  must  be  made." 
And  he  blessed  her  in  his  heart,  while  a 
thousand  miles  away  from  her  on  that 
lonely  prairie,  with  a  depth  of  love  and 
tenderness  he  had  never  dreamed  of  when 
he  first  won  her  to  be  his  bride. 

Yes,  Susan  could  be  trusted.  She  must 
now  go  without  the  new  furniture  they 
had  meant  to  buy  for  the  pretty  cottage, 
and  without  expensive  clothing,  and  must 


224  THE   ORPHANS. 

economize  in  every  way ;    but  she  did  it 

cheerfully;  for  she  too  was  a  genuine, 
practical  Christian,  seeking  first  to  know 
the  will  of  her  heavenly  Father  in  all 
things,  and  then  doing  it  patiently. 

So  Mabel  and  her  mother  went  on  taking 
the  best  of  care  of  the  puny  children,  while 
Leonard  worked  the  harder  and  Susan 
economized  the  closer,  and,  if  possible, 
smiled  the  brighter;  and  soon  the  little 
orphans  thrived  like  flowers  in  May,  and 
brought  a  world  of  bright  sunshine  into 
the  red  house. 

"I  do  think  they  brought  a  blessing 
with  them, — the  dear  little  things,"  said 
Aunt  Mabel.  "To  be  sure,  they  are  a  deal 
of  care  and  trouble ;  but  I  have  never  seen 
mother  so  happy  since  father  died  as  she 
is  now;  and  /  wouldn't  give  them  up  for 
any  thing. — the  darlings!"' 

Yes,  right-doing  always  does  bring  a 
blessing  with  it.  God  tells  us  over  and 
over  that  it  shall ;  but  we  strangely  forget 
his  words,  and  when  we  find  he  keeps  his 


HARD    WORK.  225 

» 

promises  we  are  surprised,  as  if  it  was  not 
a  thing  at  all  to  be  expected,  and  as  if  some 
strange  event  had  happened  to  us. 

Of  all  the  inmates  of  the  red  house, 
Sydney  had  changed  the  most  in  these 
nine  years.  After  fitting  himself  to  teach, 
he  went  South  as  a  private  tutor  in  a  family 
for  three  years,  and  on  his  return  had  en- 
tered college,  and,  by  teaching  part  of  his 
time,  had  slowly  worked  his  way  up,  till 
he  was  now  a  member  of  the  senior  class. 
He  was  still  a  marked  scholar,  and  as  up- 
right and  conscientious  perhaps  as  Leonard. 
But  he  had  nothing  of  his  brother's  robust 
manliness.  He  shrank  instinctively  from 
opposition  or  ridicule,  and,  indeed,  was 
morbidly  sensitive  on  many  points.  Per- 
haps, however,  he  had  more  of  the  martyr 
in  him  than  Leonard ;  for  he  suffered  the 
very  crucifixion  of  the  flesh  and  spirit 
where  Leonard  would  have  scarcely  suffered 
at  all.  He  was  still  physically  delicate, 
though  not  ill, — still  had  the  sandy  hair, 
light-blue  eyes  and  delicate  features  of  his 


226  A    QUESTION. 

childhood;  but  he  was  tall,  and,  when  ex- 
cited, his  plain  features  would  light  up  into 
an  expression  which  showed  how  brightly 
within  burned  the  concealed  fires.  He  was 
a  son  and  brother  to  be  proud  of  and  anx- 
ious about;  and  just  now  the  great  question 
of  a  profession  was  under  consideration. 
His  mother  earnestly  wished  him  to  be  a 
minister;  but  he  shrank  from  committing 
himself  to  that  profession,  fearing  he  was 
not  fit  for  it, — not  thoroughly  enough  con- 
secrated, body  and  soul,  to  the  service  of 
Christ.  He  had  united  with  a  church ;  but 
his  ideal  of  an  ambassador  of  Christ  was 
so  lofty  and  pure,  and  his  searchings  of  his 
own  heart  so  deep  and  thorough,  that  when 
the  subject  was  pressed  upon  his  notice  for 
decision  he  was  always  greatly  distressed, 
and  begged  to  postpone  it  at  least  for  a 
little  longer. 

As  a  compensation  for  his  want  of  hope- 
fulness, he  had  an  ardent  love  for  study, 
and  an  enthusiasm  for  all  that  was  lovely 
in  nature  and  intellect,  which  brought  into 


A    QUESTION.  227 

his  soul  floods  of  joy  which  a  nature  less 
sensitive  could  never  appreciate  nor  under- 
stand. The  two  brothers  loved  each  other 
tenderly,  and  admired  each  other,  each 
valuing  in  the  other  the  qualities  he  him- 
self lacked.  When  Sydney  came  home, 
they  all  enjoyed  him  thoroughly;  for  he 
took  them  into  new  regions  of  thought, 
and  coloured  whatever  subject  he  touched 
with  the  hues  of  his  own  luxuriant  fancy. 
He  had  inherited  his  mother's  fervid  tem- 
perament ;  for,  as  we  said  long  ago,  a  latent 
vein  of  poetry  was  lurking  in  Mary  Ro- 
berts's nature,  and,  prosy  and  humble  as 
her  life  had  been,  it  lurked  there  still. 
And,  though  now  over  sixty  years  of  age, 
she  entered  into  all  Sydney's  hopes  and 
plans,  and  understood  him  as  no  one  else 
in  the  family  did.  This  peculiar  sympathy 
between  them  was  often  very  touching 
and  beautiful,  though  it  gave  her  many  an 
anxious  hour;  and  the  question,  "What 
can  Sydney  do  in  the  world?"  in  spite  of 


228  BHAD0W8. 

his  rich  gifts,  usually  brought  a  deep  sigh 
with  it  from  the  mother's  heart. 

Thus  we  find  our  old  friends  in  the  red 
house  in  the  autumn  of  1860,  that  period 
so  full  of  interest  to  the  country,  and  of 
events  which  cast  before  them  such  dark 
and  lengthening  shadows. 


THE    GREAT    QUESTION.  229 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE    GREAT    QUESTION. 

Of  the  great  public  events  which  thronged 
thickly  upon  the  close  of  that  year,  no  intel- 
ligent citizen,  like  Leonard  Roberts,  could 
be  an  indifferent  spectator.  It  was  a  winter 
of  almost  unparalleled  severity  in  New 
England;  but,  fearfully  as  the  snow-drifts 
were  piled  up  around  the  cottages  of  Wood- 
lee,  the  daily  paper,  with  its  exciting  con- 
tents, found  its  way  into  many  of  them. 

When  the  news  came  that  State  after 
State  had  seceded  from  this  Union,  declar- 
ing its  right  to  do  so  and  its  reasons  for  it, 
Leonard  read  the  ordinances  issued  by  each 
carefully,  considering  candidly  the  causes 
assigned  by  them  for  their  course.  To  him, 
as  to  most  of  the   quiet  citizens   of  the 

Northern  States,  the  idea  of  a  dissolution 
20 


230  THE    GREAT    QUESTION. 

of  the  Union  was  new  and  startling.  Poli- 
ticians at  the  South  had  threatened  it,  and 
a  few  extremists  at  the  North  suggested  it  ; 
but  the  great  body  of  the  people  of  the 
North  had  never  once  seriously  thought 
of  it  as  possible.  Now  they  were  com- 
pelled to  look  at  it.  Leonard  Roberts  was 
not  a  man  to  form  an  opinion  hastily  or 
from  one  point  of  view  alone.  On  this, 
as  on  all  other  important  subjects,  he  en- 
deavoured to  ascertain  deliberately  what 
truth  and  justice  demanded,  and  to  have 
his  decision  conformed  to  their  require- 
ments. 

The  question  which  at  that  juncture  was 
the  prominent  one  in  all  minds  was  this : — 
Is  secession  right?  Can  one  of  these  United 
States  lawfully  separate  herself  from  the 
great  family  of  States  ?  In  order  to  answer 
this  intelligently,  Leonard  Roberts  again 
reviewed  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States,  already  familiar  to  him,  but  now 
studying  each  clause  with  special  reference 
to  this  one  question.     He  went  anew  over 


THE    GREAT    QUESTION.  231 

the  history  of  its  formation,  and  the  his- 
tory of  the  old  Confederation,  and  read 
many  of  the  able  and  exciting  debates  in 
Congress  at  that  period,  in  order  to  ascer- 
tain from  their  own  words  what  were  the 
views  of  the  framers  of  the  Constitution 
on  this  vital  point.  What  his  conclusions 
were  may  be  learned  from  a  conversation 
which  took  place  one  evening,  when  the 
family  were,  as  usual,  all  assembled  to  hear 
the  daily  paper  read  aloud.  Sydney  was 
at  home  for  his  vacation;  and  Mr.  Price,  a 
brother  of  Mrs.  Roberts,  was  also  making 
them  a  visit  at  the  time. 

"  Well,  Leonard,"  Mr.  Price  said,  "  what 
do  you  think  of  this  new  doctrine  of  seces- 
sion? Do  you  believe  a  State  has  a  right 
to  go  out  of  the  Union  in  this  way?" 

"  It  is  a  great  question,  uncle,"  answered 
Leonard,  "and  one  which  I  have  been  try- 
ing to  answer  honestly  in  my  own  mind. 
It  is  too  important  a  one  to  be  decided 
from  impulse,  or  self-interest,  or  precon- 
ceived  opinions;   for  it  is  a  question  in- 


232  THE    GREAT    QUESTION. 

volving  life  or  death  to  our  national  insti- 
tutions. I  have  tried  to  look  at  the  whole 
subject  candidly,  and  I  must  confess  I  can 
find  no  evidence  of  any  right  to  secede.  I 
don't  believe  the  Constitution  gives,  or 
was  meant  to  give,  any  such  right.  On 
the  contrary,  I  think  the  great  object  the 
framers  of  it  had  in  view  was  to  do  just 
what  they  themselves  say  in  the  preamble, 
— viz.:  ' J cor 'ma  more  perfect  union.'  Xow, 
for  them  to  have  given  to  each  or  any  State 
a  right  to  withdraw  whenever  it  should 
choose  to,  would  have  undermined  the  very 
foundations  of  that  union  they  were  trying 
to  establish  more  firmly  ;  for  with  such  a 
right  there  never  could  be,  in  the  nature 
of  things,  any  security  or  permanency  to  a 
union  of  States." 

"So  I  think,"  said  Mr.  Price,  who  was 
called  "Uncle  Ros;er"  at  the  red  house. 
"Why,  if  every  State,  whenever  it  got 
angry  or  fancied  itself  abused,  could  go 
out  of  the  Union  any  minute,  who  would 
know  what   to    expect?     Georgia   might 


THE    GREAT    QUESTION.  233 

go  out  one  year,  New  York  the  next,  and 
then  Illinois  ;  and  where  would  the  nation 
be  then?" 

"True:  there  could  be  no  security  for 
any  thing,"  said  Leonard.  "No  foreign 
nation  could  feel  confidence  in  a  govern- 
ment based  on  such  shifting  sands.  Neither 
our  commerce  nor  any  other  great  national 
interest  could  prosper  on  such  uncertainties. 
Indeed,  our  own  people  couldn't  feel  any 
confidence  in  the  government ;  for  who 
could  know  what  changes  one  year  might 
bring?  "Now,  I  believe  the  men  who  framed 
the  Constitution  saw  this  clearly.  They 
had  tried  the  old  Confederation,  and  found 
it  fail  in  just  that  one  point, — in  not  bind- 
ing the  States  together  firmly  enough  ;  and 
they  meant  to  give  us,  in  its  place,  a  Union 
that  should  be  strong  and  lasting.  They 
did  give  us  one  which  has  hitherto  proved 
so,  and  under  which  we  have  prospered 
wonderfully.  Now  its  stability  is  to  be  sub- 
jected to  a  new  test.  If  it  stands  this,  we 
shall  have  a  national  government  secured 

20* 


234  THE    GREAT    QUESTION. 

to  us  for  all  coming  generations,  resting  on 
a  firm  basis,  and  shown  to  be  strong  enough 
to  maintain  itself  against  internal  treachery 
as  well  as  foreign  foes.  And  I  trust  in  God 
it  may  not  be  found  wanting  in  this  its  day 
of  trial !  Don't  you  remember,  mother," 
he  added,  after  a  little  silence,  "how  grand- 
father used  to  charge  us  to  stand  by  the 
old  flag  ?  I  don't  know  but  the  time  is 
coming  when  we  shall  have  to  rally  under 
it  on  the  battle-field,  as  our  fathers  did 
before  us." 

"God  forbid!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Roberts, 
with  a  shudder.  "  War  is  such  a  dreadful 
thing  that  I  hope  I  may  never  live  to 
see  another  one, — especially  a  war  among 
ourselves." 

"A  dreadful  thing  indeed  it  would  be, 
mother,"  said  Sydney  ;  "  but,  dreadful  as 
war  is,  there  are  still  worse  things.  To 
betray  one's  country  is  worse.  To  stand 
still  and  see  the  nation  rent  asunder  by 
wicked  men  is  worse.  To  prove  false  to 
all  our  obligations  as  citizens,  by  letting 


THE    GREAT    QUESTION.  235 

the  government  purchased  for  us  by  our 
fathers  be  destroyed,  without  making  a 
single  effort  to  preserve  it,  would  be  worse. 
To  have  established  in  our  land,  which 
they  meant  should  be  a  land  of  freedom, 
a  nation  openly  based  on  slavery,  would  be 
worse.  This  would  be  treachery,  falsehood, 
cowardice,  disgrace, — worse,  yes,  a  thou- 
sand times  worse,  than  war  !  No  man," 
he  added,  with  flashing  eyes,  "  who  has 
one  single  drop  of  the  old  Revolutionary 
blood  in  his  veins  can  look  on  and  see 
these  things  attempted  without  doing 
what  he  can  to  stop  it :  if  he  does,  he  is 
false  to  every  trust  he  holds  as  a  citizen 
and  a  Christian, — false  alike  to  his  coun- 
try  and  his  God  !" 

11  Yet  war  is  such  a  terrible  evil,"  said 
Leonard,  more  coolly,  "  that  every  thing 
which  can  be  done,  consistently  with  honour 
and  duty,  to  prevent  it  ought  to  be  done. 
I  trust  we  shall  yet  escape  it ;  for  a  civil 
war  would  be  full  of  untold  horrors.  I 
fully  believe,  however,  that  God  has  given 


236  THE    GREAT    QUESTION. 

us  this  country  as  a  precious  inheritance 
for  us  to  transmit  to  our  children  after  us, 
an  undivided  and  a  free  country,  and 
that  to  thus  hold  it  and  transmit  it  is  a 
solemn  duty  binding  on  every  citizen  of 
these  United  States.  If  an  attempt  is 
made  to  divide  this  country  by  force,  then 
we  must  resist  that  attempt  by  force.  It 
must  be  our  duty  to  do  this.  I  can  come 
to  no  other  conclusion.  But  I  can't  believe 
that  even  the  hot-blooded  Southerners  will 
be  insane  enough  to  attempt  this." 

"I  believe  they  will,"  said  Sydney; 
"  for  when  I  was  at  the  South  I  heard  a 
dissolution  of  the  Union  so  often  talked 
about  and  threatened,  that  I  think  their 
minds  are  prepared  for  it.  They  expect 
foreign  nations  will  come  to  their  aid,  and 
that  they  shall  succeed  in  building  up  a 
great  slaveholding,  cotton-raising  con- 
federacy that  will  become  immensely  rich 
and  powerful.  This  is  the  ambitious 
dream  of  their  leading  politicians ;  and  I 


THE    GREAT   QUESTION.  237 

fear  they  will  stop  at  nothing  in  trying  to 
make  it  a  reality." 

"But  why  not  let  them  go,  if  they 
want  to?"  asked  Mabel.  "For  my  part, 
I  am  sure  I  should  rather  live  in  a  smaller 
and  poorer  country,  if  it  were  only  free 
and  quiet  and  governed  by  good  laws." 

"  The  question  is  not  what  we  had 
rather  do,"  said  Leonard,  "but  what  we 
ought  to  do.  It  would,  no  doubt,  be  easier 
and  pleasanter  for  this  generation  to  keep 
quiet  and  submit  to  all  kinds  of  aggres- 
sion and  wrong,  or  even  to  let  the  country 
be  divided  at  the  instigation  of  wicked 
men,  than  to  oppose  it ;  but  have  we  a 
right  to  do  this?  Our  government  and 
our  country,  with  all  the  blessings  belong- 
ing to  them,  were  left  to  us;  and  are  we 
not  bound  to  do  something  to  preserve 
them  for  those  who  shall  come  after  us  ? 
If  the  people  of  the  South,  or  rather  the 
politicians  of  the  South, — for  I  do  not  con- 
sider this  so  much  a  movement  of  the 
people   as  of  their   leaders, — have   deter- 


238  THE    GREAT    QUESTION. 

mined  to  strike  a  blow  which  will  subvert 
the  very  foundations  of  our  national  exist- 
ence, ought  we  to  sit  idle  and  let  them  do 
it?  If  secession  meant  merely  dividing 
the  country  once, — though  that  would  be 
bad  enough, — it  might  possibly  be  endured; 
but  don't  you  see,  Mabel,  that  it  is  not 
merely  the  doing  that,  but  the  principle 
involved  in  it,  which  we  are  bound  to 
resist?  To  introduce  this  precedent  of 
the  right  of  a  State  or  States  to  secede  at 
their  pleasure,  is  to  introduce  a  feature 
which  will  certainly  prove  our  ruin  ;  for, 
once  admitted  as  a  right  which  each  State 
can  claim,  the  door  would  be  opened  to 
its  being  done  again  at  some  future  day, 
and  then  again,  and  so  on  indefinitely, 
till  our  nationality  would  be  utterly  gone. 
Allow  this  right,  and  we  should  have 
only  a  semblance  of  a  government  left ; 
all  its  power  and  efficiency  would  be 
lost." 

"We   should   then  be  pretty  much   in 
the  same  condition  as  the  South  American 


THE    GREAT    QUESTION.  239 

States,"  said  Uncle  Roger, — "each  sepa- 
rate State  weak  and  unable  to  defend  itself, 
and  without  any  central  government  to 
maintain  law  and  order  over  the  whole." 

"Yes,  we  should,  indeed,"  said.  Leon-, 
ard.  "It  is  this  bond  of  union  which 
secures  to  us  all  our  rights;  and  it  must 
be  the  duty  of  every  citizen  to  defend  it. 
— yes,  even  if  doing  so  costs  us  as  much 
as  it  cost  our  fathers  to  establish  it  at  first ! 
No,  Mabel,  dearly  as  we  love  peace, 
we  cannot  let  the  government  which 
secures  such  blessings  to  every  citizen  be 
destroyed,  even  if  a  war  in  its  defence  is 
the  alternative ;  and  we  see  that  secession 
is  but  another  name  for  destruction  :  ruin 
is  as  sure  to  come  from  it  as  effect  is  to 
follow  cause, — not  immediately,  perhaps, 
not  in  our  day,  possibly,  but  eventually. 
So,  if  we  love  our  government,  if  we  love 
law  and  order  and  cherish  the  free  institu- 
tions which  have  made  us  a  great  and 
happy  people,  we  must  resist  this  move- 
ment even  to  blood,  if  that  alternative  is 


240  THE    GREAT    QUESTION. 

forced  upon  us.  \Ve  must  settle  it,  once 
for  all,  that  no  State  has  a  constitutional 
right  to  leave  the  Union  when  she  chooses. 
Her  people  may,  to  be  sure,  exercise  the 
right  of  revolution,  common  to  all  commu- 
nities,  if  they  see  fit ;  but  that  is  a  differ- 
ent thing  from  claiming  a  right  to  secede 
from  our  Union." 

"Another  consideration,"  said  Sydney, 
"makes  it  clear  to  me  that  we  ought  to 
resist  it;  and  that  is,  the  reasons  which 
are  given  to  justify  secession.  If  we 
should  allow  that  a  State  could  ever  leave 
the  Union,  we  couldn't  believe  she  was 
justified  in  doing  it  on  any  such  pretext 
as  is  urged  now  ;  for  if  our  present  Presi- 
dent hadn't  been  elected,  I  suppose  they 
would  have  stayed  in  the  Union." 

"  If  they  had  elected  their  own  Presi- 
dential candidate,  they  would  probably 
have  remained  at  least  for  a  time.  But 
the  President  was  fairly  elected ;  and 
what  was  their  objection  to  him?  Sim- 
ply that  he   was    opoosed  to  the   exten- 


THE    GREAT    QUESTION.  241 

sion  of  slavery.  It  was  not  that  he  wished 
to  interfere  with  it  in  the  States  where  it 
already  existed,  and  where  it  was  generally 
admitted  that  the  general  government  had 
no  right  to  interfere.  But  he  was  pledged 
to  resist  its  going  into  the  vast  common  ter- 
ritory which  belongs  to  the  whole  nation, 
and  over  which  the  national  government 
has  jurisdiction.  Whatever  minor  causes 
of  complaint  existed,  there  cannot  be  a 
doubt  that  this  was  the  main  objection  to 
his  election." 

"Yes,"  exclaimed  Sydney,  "here  is  the 
real  antagonism  between  North  and  South. 
For  this — the  extension  of  slavery — the 
South  is  willing  to  divide  the  Union,  and 
bring  on  a  civil  war  and  all  the  horrors 
which  must  attend  it.  For  this  she  has 
attempted  to  leave  the  Union,  and  now 
resists  the  laws  when  our  government  tries 
to  enforce  them  within  her  limits.  Yes, 
it  is  clear  to  my  mind  that  if  secession 

ever  could  be  justified  in  the  sight  of  God, 
21 


242  THE    GREAT    QUESTION. 

it  could  not  be  on  such  a  ground  as  this, — 
to  secure  the  extension  of  slavery  I" 

"  But  I  don't  see  that  we  had  interfered 
even  with  their  slavery, M  said  Uncle  Roger. 

"  Xo ;  the  government  certainly  had 
not,"  said  Leonard;  "for,  however  strong 
a  sentiment  had  existed  against  slavery 
at  the  North,  the  government,  for  many 
years,  has  been  administered  by  those  who 
were  in  sympathy  with  Southern  and  not 
with  Northern  feeling;  and  it  would  have 
seemed  only  a  dictate  of  decency  to  have 
waited  to  see  whether  it  was  to  be  un- 
constitutionally interfered  with  by  the 
new  Administration,  before  they  withdrew 
themselves.  No,  I  cannot  conceive  a  more 
unjustifiable  course  than  their's,  look  at  it 
in  what  light  we  will !  And  when  we  think 
what  slavery  is,"  he  added,  "how  contrary 
to  the  spirit  of  Christianity,  how  blight- 
ing in  its  effects  on  both  master  and  slave 
and  also  on  the  community  in  which  it 
exists,  how  subversive  of  the  best  in- 
terests   of    humanity    and    civilization,    I 


THE    GREAT    QUESTION.  243 

have  no  words  to  express  my  abhorrence 
of  that  policy  which  would  fasten  it  on 
vast  regions  now  uninfected  with  it.  There 
cannot  be  a  doubt,  in  my  mind,  that  in 
opposing  its  extension  we  are  doing  what 
the  interests  of  humanity  and  the  law  of 
God  alike  require  of  us." 

11  These  are  tremendous  issues  to  be 
met  by  any  people,"  said  Sydney. 

"  Yes,  they  are  indeed.  But  if  they 
must  be  met  by  this  generation,"  replied 
Leonard,  solemnly,  "I  pray  God  that  we 
may  be  found  worthy  of  such  a  responsi- 
bility,— worthy  of  the  hour,  and  worthy 
of  being  the  sons  of  our  revolutionary 
fathers,  who  perilled  every  thing  to  secure 
a  righteous  and  free  government  for  their 
descendants." 

"You  and  I,  Leonard,  are  bound  to 
be  true  to  the  flag  of  our  Union  and  to 
the  principles  expressed  by  it,"  said  Syd- 
ney, "let  who  will  prove  false  to  them. 
Why,  I  don't  believe  grandfather  would 
sleep  quietly  in  his  grave  if  one  of  his 


244  THE    OLD    FLAG. 

descendants  were  to  see  that  flag  dishon- 
oured without  attempting  to  avenge  the 
insult !" 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Leonard;  "  for  next 
to  his  God  he  loved  anol  reverenced  that. 
I  can  never  forget  how  he  used  to  look  at 
it  and  talk  about  it." 

"Oh,  what  would  he  have  felt  if  he  had 
lived  to  see  it  fired  on  by  a  traitor  !"  ex- 
claimed Sydney.  "If  it  had  been  a  foreign 
foe,  then  we  could  have  borne  it ;  but 
that  men  reared  under  it  and  all  their 
lives  long  protected  and  blessed  by  it 
should  fire  upon  it,  is  more  than  I  can  un- 
derstand. I  should  expect  my  hand  to 
fall  palsied  while  doing  such  a  parricidal 
deed!" 

"Yes,  you  and  I  will  rally  round  the 
stars  and  stripes,  Sydney,  let  what  will 
come,"  said  Leonard,  "not  alone  for  our 
fathers'  sake,  but  for  truth's  sake,  for  free- 
dom's sake,  and  because  God  requires  it. 
There  is  where  all  true  patriotism  must 
be  based.     First  loyal  to  God,  then  loyal 


A    RESOLVE.  245 

to  our  country: — that  is  my  motto.  I 
thank  God  that  I  can  honestly  feel  that 
the  North  is  right  in  this  great  contest, 
— that  we  are  in  favour  of  freedom  as 
opposed  to  slavery,  of  law  and  order  as 
opposed  to  confusion  and  anarchy,  of 
justice  and  mercy  as  opposed  to  wrong 
and  cruelty  !" 

"No,"  he  added,  after  a  moment's 
pause,  looking  at  his  little  boy  who  lay 
sleeping  on  his  mother's  bosom,  "I  could 
not  ask  God's  blessing  on  my  children 
with  a  clear  conscience  unless  I  was  will- 
ing to  do  all  I  could  to  leave  my  boys  a 
country, — a  blessed,  united  country,  such 
as  my  fathers  left  to  me ;  and,  God  help- 
ing me,"  he  said,  solemnly,  "I  pledge 
myself  to  do  it,  at  whatever  sacrifice  to 
life  or  property." 

"Amen!"  responded  Sydney. 

A  deep  silence  followed.  An  unutter- 
able emotion,  a  strong  sense  of  exaltation 
and  inward  strength,  seized  on  the  hearts 

of  wife,  mother  and  sister.     Not  one  of 
21* 


246  AN    ENDORSEMENT. 

them  wished  the  words  unspoken, — the 
vow  unmade  ! 

Susan  rose  and  drew  closer  to  her  hus- 
band with  the  baby  in  her  arms  ;  while 
he  cast  on  her  a  look  of  ineffable  trust 
that  was  beautiful  to  see, — on  her,  the 
true  wife  that  had  never  failed  him ! 

"  You  too  come  of  the  old  Revolution- 
ary stock,  Susan,"  he  said ;  "I  know  }rou 
will  never  keep  me  back  from  doing  my 
duty  to  my  country." 

"No,  never!"  she  said,  steadily:  yet 
the  lips  which  uttered  the  words  were 
pale  and  quivering. 

"God  make  us  worthy  to  be  the  daugh- 
ters of  the  women  of  the  Revolution  !" 
was  the  prayer  which  went  up  silently  from 
the  heart  of  every  woman  in  the  room. 
It  was  the  prayer  going  up  in  those  days 
from  thousands  of  trembling  hearts  over 
all  the  hill-sides  and  in  all  the  valleys  of 
our  land. 

"If  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass 
from  us."     Thus  prayed  brave  Christian 


A    PRAYER.  247 

men  before  the  throne  of  God  in  those 
hours  of  fearful  suspense  and  waiting ; 
"but  if  war  must  come, — if  we  are  forced 
to  choose  between  that  and  treason  to  our 
country, — strengthen  us,  holy  Father!  to 
meet  the  peril  as  brave  men  should,  and. 
to  be  loyal  to  the  end  to  our  country  and 
to  thee!" 


248  LOYALTY 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

LOYALTY. 

Loyal  !  that  is  the  word  which  most 
fitly  expressed  the  feeling  'awakened 
throughout  the  whole  North  in  the  spring 
of  1861.  It  was  a  word  which  had  been 
little  used  among  us  hitherto.  Indeed, 
foreigners  had  asserted  that  the  feeling 
signified  by  it  could  never  exist  where 
there  was  no  crowned  head  on  which  to 
expend  it, — as  if  it  were  less  easy  or 
noble  to  be  loyal  to  a  high  and  holy  prin- 
ciple than  to  a  mere  creature  of  flesh  and 
blood.  But  it  was  the  word  which  exactly 
denoted  Leonard  Roberts's  state  of  mind. 
To  his  heart's  core  he  was  loyal  to  his 
country, — loyal  to  the  great  principles  of 
justice  and  freedom  on  which  its  govern- 
ment was  founded,  loyal  to  its  laws,  obey- 


LOYALTY.  (  249 

ing  them  in  all  integrity  of  purpose,  and 
loyal  to  the  rulers  placed  by  the  laws  over 
it.  Of  course  he  would  be  true  to  the 
country  now  in  the  hour  of  peril,  and 
willing  to  sacrifice  every  thing  to  save  it, 
if  possible,  from  being  torn  asunder  and 
destroyed. 

This  sentiment  of  loyalty  had  not  been 
the  sudden  growth  of  a  day  or  a  month. 
No  such  deep  pervading  sentiment  could 
be  born  of  a  sudden  impulse.  It  is  true, 
as  his  old  grandfather  had  said  long  years 
before,  that  whoever  would  be  thoroughly 
loyal  as  a  citizen  in  his  manhood  must 
begin  by  being  loyal  to  his  parents  and  to 
God  in  his  youth.  Leonard  had  been  true 
to  his  convictions  of  duty  when  he  was  a 
boy,  doing  what  he  thought  it  was  right 
to  do,  and  refraining  from  what  he  con- 
sidered wrong ;  and  it  was  to  be  expected 
he  would  do  what  he  thought  was  right 
now  he  was  a  man,  for  it  had  become  the 
habit  of  his  life.  When,  a  barefooted  little 
urchin  at  school,  he  gave  up  his  place  in 


250  CAUSE    AND    EFFECT. 

the  class  rather  than  be  guilty  of  decep- 
tion, he  was  preparing  himself  for  an 
honest  man.  When  he  decided,  as  he 
sat  on  the  rock  at  twilight,  to  sacrifice  a 
great  pleasure  rather  than  do  wrong,  he  was 
fitting  himself,  by  the  help  of  God,  to  be 
loyal  to  duty  and  to  God  in  all  his  after- 
life. And  now,  when  the  responsibilities 
of  manhood  had  gathered  about  him,  he 
could  not  be  false  to  his  obligations  as  a 
citizen.  To  do  what  he  considered  right 
in  the  sight  of  God  had  become,  it  might 
almost  be  said,  a  matter  of  course  now, 
so  long  had  right-doing  been  the  ruling 
purpose  of  his  life. 

Therefore,  if  he  believed — as  we  have 
seen  he  did — that  this  Union  of  States 
ought  to  be  preserved,  he  could  no  more 
refrain  from  throwing  his  whole  strength 
into  the  cause  of  the  Union  than  he  could 
have  committed  any  other  known  sin; 
for,  with  him,  to  be  neutral  in  a  conflict 
between  right  and  wrong  was  the  same 
as  being  an  accomplice  in  the  wrong.    He 


THE    OLD    FLAG.  251 

had  come  to  his  conclusions  cautiously ; 
but  now  he  must  act  in  accordance  with 
his  convictions,  cost  what  it  might. 

And  when  tidings  came  that  Fort  Sumter 
had  been  attacked  and  compelled  to  sur- 
render, and  afterwards  that  Union  soldiers, 
when  passing  quietly  through  Baltimore 
on  their  way  to  the  defence  of  the  Capital, 
had  been  fired  upon  and  killed,  his  whole 
soul  was  roused  within  him. 

It  was  on  Saturday  evening,  the  20th  of 
April,  that  this  last  intelligence  reached  him, 
just  at  sunset,  when  he  had  finished  the  la- 
bours of  the  day  and  of  the  week.  Silently 
he  went  into  the  house  and  brought  out 
the  old  flag, — the  time-worn,  battle-stained 
flag  which  had  been  so  sacred  to  him  and 
to  his  ancestors, — and,  unfurling  it  on  the 
old  spot,  he  sat  down  under  a  tree  and 
gazed  upon  it  as  it  rose  and  fell  on  the 
breath  of  the  twilight  breeze, — gazed  long 
and  silently  at  its  faded  folds,  and  then 
up  at  the  blue  heavens  above,  till  his  heart 
swelled  with  such  lofty  aspirations  and  pur- 


252  A  ELATION. 

poses  as  can  only  stir  the  heart  of  a  true 
patriot  when  his  country  is  in  peril.  He 
sat  there  motionless  till  the  stars  came 
out,  and  as  he  looked  up  to  the  firmament 
where  they  were  shining  out  so  brightly 
and  beautifully,  his  heart  rose  in  prayer. 

Leonard  Roberts  had  been  for  many 
years  a  man  of  prayer;  but  he  had  seldom 
prayed  as  he  prayed  that  night.  His 
whole  soul  was  quickened  into  intense 
emotion ;  and  he  turned  to  God,  who  knew 
all  things,  for  teaching  and  guidance  in 
that  great  crisis.  He  consecrated  himself 
afresh,  body  and  soul,  all  that  he  had 
and  all  that  he  was,  to  the  service  of  God. 
to  be  guided  by  him  wherever  he  should 
lead,  even  if  it  should  be  away  from  home 
and  wife  and  children  to  die  on  the  field 
of  battle.  In  such  an  emergency,  a  single 
life  seemed  a  small  thing  to  give  ;  and  he 
asked  God  to  help  him  to  die  cheerfully 
for  his  country  if  it  should  be  necessary 
and  right.  He  prayed,  too,  that  his  wife 
and  mother  might  be  strengthened  to  do 


A    PRAYER.  253 

God's  will ;  but  far  more  fervently  tlian 
for  any  thing  else  he  poured  out  his  sup- 
plications for  his  country  in  this  its  hour 
of  danger, — that  the  God  of  hosts  would 
be  its  God,  its  defence  and  shield,  its  leader 
and  protector,  filling  the  hearts  of  its  rulers 
with  wisdom,  and  the  hearts  of  its  citizens 
with  a  lofty  patriotism  that  should  enable 
them  to  do  their  whole  duty  in  this  emer- 
gency, and  that  all,  rulers  and  people, 
might  become  a  righteous  and  God-fearing 
nation,  even  through  the  terrible  baptism 
of  war  and  bloodshed,  if  God  had  so  or- 
dained. 

His  heart  was  calmed  by  prayer ;  but 
when  he  turned  to  his  quiet  home  beneath 
the  sheltering  trees,  and  thought  what 
agony  his  absence  and  death  would  bring 
into  it,  he  felt  a  shrinking.  But  it  was 
only  for  a  moment ;  for,  tenderly  as  he 
loved  his  wife  and  children,  he  felt  that 
his  country  was  more  to  him  even  than 
they, — or,  rather,  that  only  in  being  true  to 

his  country  could  he  be  really  true  to  them. 
22 


254  RECOLLECTIONS. 

He  was  a  tender  husband  and  father ;  but, 
with  his  home  and  family  clearly  standing 
out  before  him,  he  said,  firmly,  "My  coun- 
try first,  in  such  an  hour  as  this!" 

As  he  passed  by  the  door-steps  of  the 
red  house,  where  he  used  to  sit  by  his 
grandfather's  knee  long,  long  ago,  the  old 
man's  words  rushed  upon  his  memory  with 
strange  power.  He  seemed  to  hear  him 
once  more  saying,  "I  hope  nobody  who 
has  got  a  single  drop  of  my  blood  in  his 
veins  will  ever  suffer  that  blessed  old  flag 
to  be  trampled  on  and  disgraced."  Again 
he  seemed  to  be  putting  his  boyish  hand 
on  the  old  man's  knee  in  token  that  he 
never  would.  Again  he  heard  him  saying, 
"You  can  be  a  patriot,  Leonard :  God  grant 
you  always  may  be!"  And  he  felt  that, 
like  Hannibal,  he  had  been  consecrated  to 
his  country's  service  at  nine  years  of  age. 
That  flag  had  now  been  dishonoured,  fired 
upon  by  traitors;  and,  to  his  excited  mind, 
his  grandfather's  voice  seemed  calling  on 
him  out  of  the  still  heavens  to  avenge  the 


A    MEMORABLE    DAY.  255 

insult ;  and  again  lie  looked  upward,  and 
pledged  himself  to  the  service  of  his  coun- 
try through  weal  and  woe. 

The  next  day  was  the  Sabbath, — such 
a  Sabbath  as  never  before  dawned  on  our 
land!  The  sun  rose  fair  and  bright  that 
April  morning ;  and  the  blue  heavens 
above,  and  the  smiling  earth  beneath,  were 
as  calm  and  lovely  as  though  no  call  to 
arms  were  ringing  through  the  land,  stir- 
ring men's  souls  like  the  sound  of  a  trumpet. 
The  whole  land  was  moved  to  its  very 
centre.  In  some  sections,  men  were  hurry- 
ing to  the  Capital ;  in  others,  women  were 
gathered  in  the  churches  to  sew,  though 
sobs  and  prayers  mingled  with  their  work; 
and  even-  in  Woodlee,  that  quiet  nook 
among  the  hills,  but  one  subject  was  on  all 
lips,  one  thought  in  all  hearts;  and  from 
the  old  church-spire  a  beautiful  bright  flag, 
hastily  made  by  the  young  women  the 
day  before,  streamed  bravely  out  upon  the 
morning  breeze.  As  Leonard  and  his  family 
came  in  sight  of  it,  and  saw  its  folds  waving 


256  EARNEST    WORDS. 

out  on  the  still  air,  every  heart  thrilled  with 
a  new  sense  of  its  value  and  sacredness. 

"God  bless  the  old  flag!"  said  Leonard, 
"and  help  us  all  to  be  true  to  it,  come  what 
may  !  Tom,  my  boy,"  said  he,  lifting  the 
little  fellow  up  to  get  a  better  view  of  it, 
"look  at  the  stars  and  stripes ;  look  at  them 
well,  and  when  you've  grown  to  be  a  man, 
remember  your  father  told  you,  as  his  father 
told  him,  always  to  stand  by  that  flag. 
Never  desert  it,  let  what  will  come,  but 
shed  your  last  drop  of  blood,  if  necessary, 
in  its  defence!  Never  be  a  traitor,  Tom; 
never,  as  you  hope  for  a  father's  blessing, 
or  the  blessing  of  God  upon  your  soul!" 

It  was  seldom  that  the  quiet,  reserved 
father  spoke  so  earnestly;  but  in  those 
days  the  souls  even  of  quiet  men  were 
stirred  to  their  very  depths,  till  even  the 
most  slow-spoken  became  eloquent. 

"It  seems  but  a  day,  mother,"  he  said, 
turning  to  the  back  seat  where  his  mother 
was  sitting,  "since  grandfather  gave  me 
the  same  charge." 


MEMORY.  257 

"I  was  just  thinking  of  that,"  said  his 
mother,  "and  of  how  little  he  dreamed  of 
such  times  as  these  coming  in  your  day." 

"And  yet  I  remember  perfectly  his 
telling  us  one  Fourth  of  July  that  we  boys 
might  live  to  see  that  flag  floating  over 
battle-fields,  and  that  the  time  might  come 
when  we  should  have  to  fight  to  preserve 
our  liberties  as  bravely  as  our  fathers  did 
to  establish  them." 

"  I  remember  that,"  said  Susan.  "I  was' 
only  a  little  child,  but  mother  took  me  to 
the  tea-party,  and  I  can  see  now  just  how 
the  old  gentleman  looked  as  he  stood  up 
there  talking  so  earnestly,  and  pointing  up 
to  the  flag  that  hung  from  the  liberty-pole 
close  by.  Of  course  I  didn't  understand 
what  it  meant;  but  his  looks  and  tones  of 
voice  made  such  an  impression  on  me  that 
I  have  never  forgotten  them." 

"It  seemed  very  absurd  then  to  talk  of 
a  war  in  our  day,"  said  Mrs.  Roberts. 

"And  yet  grandfather  seemed  to  have  a 

kind  of  premonition  of  just  such  a  time  as 
22* 


258  A    NEW    SPIRIT. 

this,"  said  Leonard;  "for  he  never  tailed 
to  charge  us  boys  to  stand  by  the  old 
flag.  And  oh,  mother,  may  strength  be 
given  to  us  now  to  follow  his  teaching  and 
example!" 

A  heavy  sigh  came  from  the  mother's 
heart ;  but  she  did  not  speak. 

The  services  of  the  church  in  Woodlee, 
as  in  most  other  churches  of  our  land  on 
that  day,  had  direct  reference  to  the  con- 
dition of  the  country.  The  ardent  young 
clergyman  offered  up  fervent  prayers  for 
the  country,  its  rulers  and  people,  and  in 
his  sermon  set  forth  the  obligations  and 
duties  of  an  American  citizen  in  times  of 
national  peril  so  eloquently,  and  so  ear- 
nestly urged  on  his  hearers  a  faithful  fulfil- 
ment of  them,  that  many  a  young  man  in 
his  congregation  felt  a  new  spirit  of  patriot- 
ism and  self-sacrifice  awakened  within  him. 
The  service  closed  by  singing  the  hymn 
commencing, — 

"  My  country,  'tis  of  thee, 
Sweet  land  of  liberty," 


SPIRITS    STIRRED.  259 

when  all  rose  to  their  feet  as  by  a  simul- 
taneous impulse  and  joined  in  singing  it, 
while  great  tears  might  be  seen  rolling 
down  the  toil-hardened  cheeks  of  the  old- 
est and  most  phlegmatic  men  there.  The 
closing  stanza, — 

"  Our  fathers'  God!  to  thee, 
Author  of  liberty, 

To  thee  we  sing  : 
Long  may  our  land  be  bright 
With  freedom's  holy  light ! 
Protect  us  by  thy  might, 
Great  God,  our  King  !" 

was  sung  as  few  stanzas  were  ever  sung 
before  in  that  little  church;  for  the  feel- 
ing in  every  heart  was  too  deep  to  be  sup- 
pressed. 

It  was  a  Sunday  never  to  be  forgotten ; 
and  the  congregation  went  to  their  homes 
among  the  rugged  hills  with  hearts  glow- 
ing with  patriotic  fervour,  determined  to 
meet  the  impending  crisis  like  brave,  true- 
hearted  men  and  women, — in  fact,  in  very 
much  the  same  frame  of  mind,  we  suppose, 
as  did  the,  congregations  of  New  England 


260  RIDE    HOME. 

in  '75  and  '76,  when  the  prayers  and  ex- 
hortations from  the  pulpit  added  new  fer- 
vour to  the  fires  kindled  in  the  breast  of 
each  patriotic  citizen. 

"It  is  good  to  know  our  cause  is  one 
we  can  ask  the  blessing  of  God  upon  as 
we  stand  in  his  holy  temple  !"  was  the 
only  remark  made  by  Leonard  on  the 
way  home. 

They  rode  silently  along  among  those 
still  and  lonely  hills,  with  hearts  too  full 
of  emotion  to  think  of  the  greenness  and 
beauty  everywhere  around  them :  yet 
these  sweet  influences  of  nature  uncon- 
sciously affected  them,  being 

"  Still  present  to  the  bodily  sense, 
Though  vanish'd  from  the  thought," 

and  operating  with  a  calm  and  soothing- 
power  on  their  excited  minds. 

That  Sunday  evening  was  one  which 
thousands  will  remember  as  the  time 
when  they  decided  what  it  was  their  duty 
to  do  in  that  dreadful  crisis.  Many  who 
volunteered  the  ensuing  week  ,did  it,  no 


THE    UPKIS1NG.  261 

doubt,  from  impulse,  many  from  mere  love 
of  excitement  and  adventure,  and  many 
others  from  mercenary  motives ;  but,  after 
making  full  allowance  for  all  such,  there 
remained  a  great  majority  who  were  actu- 
ated by  higher  considerations. 

Well  has  a  foreign  writer  termed  this 
movement  "  the  uprising  of  a  great  peo- 
ple;" for  never  was  a  whole  nation  more 
deeply  stirred.  The  great  body  of  the 
citizens  through  the  whole  North  were 
kindled  into  a  fervour  of  patriotic  zeal : 
they  believed  their  country  was  in  danger, 
and  they  rushed  to  the  rescue,  because 
they  loved  that  country  better  than  life, — 
better  than  all  things  else  on  earth. 

This  conviction  was  based  on  a  know- 
ledge of  the  principles  on  which  our 
government  is  founded ;  and  it  was  be- 
cause they  knew  the  doctrine  of  secession 
was  but  another  name  for  eventual  ruin, 
that  they  nerved  themselves  to  resist  it  at 
all  hazards. 


262  A    TALK    WITH    SUSAN. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

A   TALK    WITH    SUSAN. 

It  had  been  a  wonderful  Sabbath,  as 
we  have  said ;  and  the  evening  which  fol- 
lowed was  also  one  wThich  will  never  be 
forgotten.  Many  a  father  that  night 
pressed  his  children  to  his  bosom  wTith  a 
strange  outgush  of  tenderness,  knowing 
that  before  another  Sunday  came  he  should 
be  awTay  ;  and  many  a  wTife  watched  her 
husband's  face  with  an  agonizing  scrutiny, 
striving  to  read  there  his  decision.  Some 
of  these  wTives  besought  their  husbands 
not  to  leave  them ;  while  others,  like 
Susan  Roberts,  refrained  from  a  word  or 
even  a  look  that  should  act  as  a  hindrance 
in  their  husbands'  way.  Still  other  wives 
and  mothers  there  wTere,  whose  zeal  and 
love  of  country  so  lifted  them  above  all 


WOMEN-PATRIOTS.  263 

personal  considerations  that  they  even  re- 
joiced, with  that  deep,  mysterious  joy 
which  only  heroic  souls  can  understand,  to 
lay  their  dearest  and  best-beloved  on  the 
altar  of  their  country, — to  pour  out  their 
life's  blood  in  its  defence,  if  so  God  should 
will.  Yes,  enshrouded  in  the  frail,  trem- 
bling form  of  woman,  Heaven  and  its 
angels  beheld  many  a  martyr-soul  in  those 
April  days, 

Susan  Roberts  was  not  one  of  these. 
She  could  not  rejoice  in  sacrifice  ;  but  she 
struggled  to  be  submissive,  and  to  forget 
self  in  the  higher  interests  involved. 

**  I  am  very  weak,  I  believe,"  she  said 
to  Mabel,  when  the  thought  of  her  hus- 
band's going  to  the  war  first  occurred  to 
her,  "  and  a  great  deal  more  of  a  woman 
than  a  patriot.  I  can't  help  trembling  all 
over  at  the  very  thought  of  Leonard's 
going ;  but  I  will  not  prevent  his  doing 
what  he  thinks  he  ought  to.  I  can  be  brave 
enough  for  that ;  but  I  can't  urge  him  to 
go,  as  some  wives  do." 


264  A    QUIET    TALK. 

During  that  eventful  Sunday  she  had 
prayed  incessantly  for  strength  from  on 
high  ;  and  at  evening  she  felt  that  her 
prayers  had  been  answered;  for  her  spirit 
was  now  cairn,  and  her  faith  in  God's  love 
so  firm,  that  she  fully  believed  he  would 
carry  her  safely  through  any  trial  which 
might  be  before  her.  After  the  children 
were  in  bed  and  the  whole  house  quiet, 
she  sat  down  by  her  husband,  and  they 
calmly  discussed  the  whole  subject  together. 

"  I  do  think,  Leonard,  I  am  perfectly 
willing  you  should  go  if  it  is  your  duty/' 
she  said  :  "I  only  want  to  feel  certain  in 
my  own  mind  what  your  duty  is." 

"  I  don't  think  there  can  be  a  doubt  of 
that,"  said  Leonard.  "  There  isn't  one  in 
my  own  mind.  If  we  don't  rally  now,  the 
traitors  who  are  trying  to  destroy  our 
government  will  gain  a  foothold,  which 
will  cost  us  dear  in  the  future." 

"But  when  I  think  of  what  a  terrible 
thing  war  is,  and  of  what  it  will  bring 
upon  the   nation  North   and  South,   and 


WHO    IS    RESPONSIBLE?  265 

that  it  is  the  blood  of  our  fellow-citizens — 
our  own  brothers,  as  it  were — which  we 
mu3t  shed,  my  soul  revolts  against  it;  and 
I  can't  help  wondering  if  it  really  can  be 
right.  Oh,  Leonard  !  God  must  see  that 
a  fearful  responsibility  rests  somewhere, — 
on  whoever  has  brought  this  war  about." 

"Fearful!  fearful  indeed!  and  I  must 
believe  it  rests  mainly  on  those  Southern 
demagogues,  who,  disappointed  in  obtaining 
their  ends  under  our  government,  and  un- 
dertaking to  build  up  a  great  Southern  Con- 
federacy, have  magnified  all  the  grounds  of 
complaint,  and  inflamed  the  minds  of  the 
people  by  false  representations,  till  they 
have  really  come  to  believe  that  they  are 
wronged  by  the  very  government  which 
has  fostered  and  upheld  them,  and  so  are 
trying  to  destroy  it, — the  best  government 
the  world  ever  saw." 

11  But  was  there  no  way  by  which  a 
settlement  of  the  difficulties  could  be 
brought  about  without  fighting  ?     I  want 

28 


266  NO    OTHER    WAY. 

to   know  that;    because,  if    there   was,   I 
should  feel  that  the  war  was  wrong." 

"All  pacific  measures  were  prevented 
by  their  very  first  act.  They  went  out 
from  us  suddenly,  claiming  that  they  had 
a  right  to  go  out ;  they  took  fraudulent  pos- 
session of  the  public  property,  and  then 
resisted  the  authority  of  the  government 
by  force,  firing  on  government  vessels 
and  government  forts.  They  thus  left 
us  no  alternative.  We  must  allow  that 
a  State  has  a  right  to  leave  the  Union  in 
this  manner  when  she  chooses,  or  deny 
that  right.  If  we  had  admitted  it,  our 
Union  would  have  been  lost,  all  law  and 
order  destroyed,  and  a  principle  esta- 
blished fatal  to  all  our  rights  and,  event- 
ually, to  the  existence  of  the  nation  itself. 
'Can  you  not  see  how  this  principle  lies 
at  the  very  foundation  of  our  national 
life?  I  can;  and,  for  that  reason,  I  feel 
that  every  thing  sacred  and  dear  to  us 
as  a  people  is  now  at  stake.  I  feel  as 
strongly  as  you  do  that  war  is  a  terrible 


IT    MUST    BE    RIGHT.  267 

evil, — especially  war  with  our  own  kin- 
dred; and,  were  the  interests  involved  less 
vital,  I  should  indeed  hesitate  before  I 
took  up  arms.  I  couldn't  conscientiously 
fight  for  an  increase  of  territory,  nor  even, 
perhaps,  to  keep  what  belongs  to  us.  I 
couldn't  fight  merely  to  maintain  what  is 
called  the  balance  of  power  among  nations, 
as  is  so  often  done  in  Europe.  But  when  I 
think  what  a  blessing  our  national  govern- 
ment has  been  to  us,  what  peace  and  free- 
dom and  prosperity  it  has  given  to  us, 
and  what  protection  to  all  our  rights  as 
citizens,  and  then  reflect  what  blessings 
it  will  continue  to  give  to  coming  gene- 
rations, I  cannot  see  it  threatened  with 
destruction  without  lifting  my  arm  to  do 
all  I  can  for  its  salvation.  I  abhor  war  ; 
my  whole  soul  revolts  at  its  horrors ;  but, 
if  it  is  ever  right  to  fight  for  one's  country, 
it  must  be  right  to  do  it  now.  Nations 
have  often  fought  for  national  honour;  we 
fight  for  national  existence." 


268  A    RESULT. 

He  paused  for  a  moment,  as  if  overcome 
with  the  thoughts  which  pressed  upon  him. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "there  are  times  when 
men  are  called  on  to  sacrifice  every  thing 
for  their  country.  Heroism, — patriotism, 
— these  can't  be  mere  names,  Susan:  they 
are  something  real;  something  God  ap- 
proves of  and  demands  of  us.  Such  a 
time  has  come  now.  Our  fathers  laid 
down  their  lives  to  secure  a  country  for 
us,  and  we  must  be  willing  to  lay  down 
our's  to  preserve  one  for  our  children.  And 
may  God  be  with  us,  and  give  us  success, 
even  as  he  did  to  them!" 

Leonard  ceased  speaking,  and  sat  for 
some  minutes  looking  out  of  the  open 
window  into  the  darkness. 

"A  mistake  here,  as  you  say,  Susan, 
would  be  dreadful.  But  I  have  gone  over 
the  ground  again  and  again.  I  have 
thought  over  it,  prayed  over  it,  and  I  can 
come  only  to  this  one  result : — that  war, 
even  with  all  its  horrors,  is  better  than  the 
ruin  of  my  country.     Yes,  our  cause  is  a 


A   BRAVE    SMILE.  269 

just  one ;  for  it  is  the  cause  of  our  country, 
the  cause  of  freedom,  the  cause  of  human 
rights.  I  can  from  my  heart  pray,  '  God 
save  the  right  f  Let  this  comfort  you  when 
I  am  gone.     I  know  it  will." 

11  When  I  am  gone/"  These  words  fell 
mournfully  on  the  heart  of  the  faithful 
wife,  and  brought  before  her  all  the  deso- 
lation his  absence  would  bring  upon  them ; 
and,  in  spite  of  her  good  resolutions,  she 
laid  her  head  on  his  shoulder  and  wept 
bitterly.  Leonard  understood  these  tears. 
They  were  not  rebellious  tears,  or  dissua- 
sives  from  duty,  and  he  did  not  attempt  to 
check  them,  but  only  folded  her  closer  to 
his  heart.  They  were  a  great  relief ;  and 
when  she  looked  up  at  him  again,  it  was 
with  her  own  brave  smile. 

"I  am  but  a  poor  wife,  I  know,  for  such 
times  as  these,"  she  said;  "but  God  will 
help  me  to  do  his  will,  and  I  will  not  be 
afraid." 

23* 


270  VOLUNTEERING. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

VOLUNTEERING. 

On  Monday  afternoon  a  meeting  df  the 
citizens  of  Woodlee  was  held.  The  greatest 
enthusiasm  prevailed,  and  but  one  spirit 
seemed  to  animate  the  whole  assembly. 
Even  those  accustomed  to  take  different 
sides  in  politics  united  now,  and  vied  with 
each  other  in  their  zeal  to  uphold  the  Union. 
Their  government  and  country  were  alike 
dear  to  all,  and  minor  differences  were  for- 
gotten, now  that  such  vital  interests  were 
imperilled.  Judge  Bailey  made  one  of 
his  most  effective  speeches,  and  was  fol- 
lowed by  his  old  political  opponent,  Colonel 
Towne ;  and  many  of  the  younger  men  pre- 
sent expressed  their  views.  Among  these 
was  Leonard  Roberts.  He  did  not  talk 
so  fluently  as  some,  but  his  words  carried 


A   CALL    TO    ARM?.  27] 

weight,  because  they  so  evidently  expressed 
his  real  convictions ;  and  when  he  repeated 
the  charge  given  him  by  his  grandfather 
to  stand  by  the  old  flag,  many  hearts  were 
touched,  for  most  of  them  remembered  the 
old  gentleman  with  deep  respect,  and  his 
words  seemed  so  timely  now,  they  were 
received  with  loud  cheers.  Perhaps  no 
speech  of  the  day  exercised  a  greater  in- 
fluence on  the  audience  than  Leonard's; 
for  they  all  knew  his  staunch  integrity. 
After  pledging  themselves  to  be  loyal  to 
the  Union,  and  to  do  all  in  their  power  to 
sustain  it,  the  meeting  adjourned  till  even- 
ing, when  all  disposed  to  enlist  would,  have 
the  opportunity,  as  a  military  company  was 
to  be  organized. 

On  Leonard's  return  home,  he  related  to 
the  family  what  had  been  done. 

1 '  Shall  you  volunteer  to-night,  Leonard  ?" 
asked  Susan,  quietly. 

He  met  her  eye  with  its  clear  gaze  fixed 
on  his,  and  for  a  moment  his  voice  failed 


272  A    LETTER. 

him.  But  he  mastered  the  emotion,  and 
answered,  calmly, — 

"Yes  :  I  intend  to." 

Susan's  cheek  lost  its  colour  for  a  mo- 
ment, but  she  looked  up  with  her  own 
bright  smile. 

"  I  could  not  respect  a  husband  who  was 
not  willing  to  do  his  duty  in  such  a  time  as 
this,"  she  said. 

"God  bless  you,  my  own  brave  wife!" 
cried  Leonard.  "Now  I  am  strong  enough 
for  any  thing.  I  have  written  to  Uncle 
Roger  to  ask  him  to  stay  here  wThile  I  am 
gone.  He  can  look  after  the  farm,  and, 
I  think,  he  will  be  willing  to  come.  Then 
Sydney  is  so  near,  you  know,  he  can  come 
to  mother  at  any  time  if  she  should  need 
him." 

While  they  were  at  tea,  the  mail-matter 
arrived  from  the  office. 

"A  letter  from  Sydney  to  mother,"  said 
Leonard.  "Tom,  you  had  better  take  it 
over  to  her  now  ;"  and  he  eagerly  glanced 
over  the  daily  paper. 


AN    UNEXPECTED     EVENT.  273 

""  I  think  Washington  is  safe  now,  Susan : 
so  many  troops  have  arrived  there,  they 
will  not  dare  to  attack  it." 

"That  is  a  great  relief,"  said  Susan. 

"Yes,  indeed  ;  and  the  whole  oountry  is 
roused.  Just  hear  what  the  merchants  in 
our  cities  are  doing!"  And  he  read  aloud 
how  they  were  everywhere  coming  forward 
with  munificent  offers  to  the  government 
of  pecuniary  assistance. 

"Oh,  father!  grandmother  wants  you  to 
come  over  there  this  minute,"  cried  Tom, 
rushing  in  breathless.  "  Uncle  Sydney  has 
gone  to  be  a  soldier!" 

Leonard  went  to  her  immediately.  She 
was  too  much  agitated  to  speak,  but  handed 
him  the  letter,  which  was  as  follows : — 

1 '  Dear  Mother  : — You  will  be  surprised 
— not  sorry,  I  hope — to  hear  I  have  enlisted, 
and  am  to  leave  for  New  York  to-night. 
A  company  was  formed  here,  and  quite  a 
number  of  our  class  have  joined  it.  There 
was  no  time  to  gain  your  consent;  but  I 


274  AN    UNEXPECTED    EVENT. 

am  sure,  mother,  you  would  have  given  it. 
I  know  you  would  not  have  your  boys  dis- 
grace their  father's  memory;  and  Leonard 
ought  not  to  go,  for  you  all  need  him  at 
home.  But  I  can  be  spared  as  well  as  not. 
Indeed,  I  must  go;  for  to  stay  here  with 
this  fire  burning  in  my  heart,  would  be 
impossible. 

"Do  not  feel  anxious  about  me.  God's 
blessing  will  go  with  me ;  for  I  go  to  fight 
in  a  righteous  cause.  I  am  willing  to  die 
for  my  country,  if  it  is  so  ordered:  yet  I 
hope  I  may  come  back  and  get  a  welcome 
home  from  you  and  Mabel.  But  God's  will 
be  done  ! 

"Love  to  Leonard  and  Susan,  and  a  kiss 
for  the  babies.  I  hope  they  will  never  have 
cause  to  blush  for  their  uncle  or  their 
country.  God  bless  you  all !  I  go  at  six 
to-night.  Every  thing  is  furnished  us,  the 
ladies  having  sewed  night  and  day  to  get 
our  clothing  ready.  Good-by.  I  will 
write  again  soon. 

"  Sydney." 


FEARS.  275 

This  was  indeed  startling  intelligence. 
They  had  prepared  their  minds  to  give 
Leonard  up,  but  had  never  once  thought 
that  Sydney  could  go. 

"He  isn't  fit  to  go,"  said  his  mother, — 
"no  more  fit  than  a  baby.  He  never  can 
stand  the  fatigue  of  marching.  If  he  were 
only  well  and  strong,  I  wouldn't  say  one 
word;  but " 

"He  is  in  God's  holy  keeping,"  said 
Leonard,  hopefully,  "and  there  we  must 
leave  him.  God  bless  the  dear  fellow!"  he 
added;  "it  was  just  like  him  to  follow  a 
noble  impulse  without  hesitating.  God 
bless  him,  I  say  again!" 

"But  a  fit  of  enthusiasm  won't  carry 
him  through  the  hardships  of  a  campaign," 
said  his  mother.  "  He  will  give  out  on  the 
road,  and  die  without  accomplishing  any 
thing." 

So  predicted  many  a  mother  whose 
youngest  boy  had  left  college  for  the  field, 
fired  by  an  irresistible  ardour;  and  many 
a  sister  answered  as  Mabel  did : — 


276  A    COSTLY    SACRIFICE. 

"A  strong  soul  sometimes  does  wonders 
even  for  the  body,  mother;  and  you  know 
Sydney  is  much  better  than  he  used  to 
be." 

"This  is,  indeed,  a  costly  sacrifice,  dear 
mother,"  said  Leonard..  "Your  youngest 
and  your  best, — your  gifted  one.  But  it  is 
made  in  a  righteous  cause,  and  God.  will 
accept  it  according  to  its  value.  He  knows 
how  much  it  costs  you.  These  are  the 
days  when  nothing  can  be  withheld  from 
our  country,  and  nothing  is  too  precious  to 
give  for  its  salvation." 

"If  he  had  come  home,  you  would  not 
have  refused  your  consent?"  said  Mabel. 

"No,  I  should  not  have  dared  to  take 
that  responsibility ;  but  I  should  have  ad- 
vised him  not  to  go.  It  is  only  because  I 
am  afraid  he  is  not  strong  enough,"  she 
said  ;  "  but  it  is  God's  will,  and  I  will  not 
murmur.  I  have  asked  Him  to  make  me 
willing  to  sacrifice  all  he  required  of  me  ; 
and  my  children  were  given  to  God  long 
years  ago.     They  are  his  now,  not  mine." 


A    TRYING    SCENE.  277 

"  Yes,  his  to  be  used  for  a  high  and  holy 
purpose,  mother,  such  as  he  will  bless." 

Leonard  knelt  with  them  in  prayer, 
commending  the  beloved  son  and  brother 
and  their  dear  country  to  God's  watchful, 
tender  keeping,  and  beseeching  for  each 
trembling,  anguished  heart  through  all  the 
land  strength,  guidance  and  comfort  from 
on  high. 

The  mother's  heart  was  somewhat 
calmed ;  but  she  could  not  sleep.  It  was 
a  night  of  wrestling  prayer, — such  a  night 
as  had  never  before  been  known  in  the 
red  house,  amidst  all  the  trials  and  changes 
that  had  taken  place  under  its  roof ;  but 
the  Comforter  still  abode  there,  and  sus- 
tained the  souls  that  called  on  him. 

When  Leonard  returned  from  the  meet- 
ing, he  told  his  wife  he  had  not  enlisted. 
"I  am  not  sure  I  ought  to  go,  now  Sydney 
has  left  us,"  he  said ;  "  for  I  depended  on 
him  to  look  after  mother.  I  ought  not  to 
act  rashly ;  and  I  shall  wait  a  little  before 
finally  deciding." 

24 


278  a  mother's  love. 

"  Are  many  going  from  here  ?"' 

11  Yes.  It  is  wonderful  to  see  the  spirit 
our  young  men  show.  I  feel  proud  of 
them  !  I  think  there  will  be  no  want  of 
men  :  if  there  should  be,  I  should  go,  of 
course.  It  ought  to  have  been  me,  and 
not  Sydney  ;  for,  as  mother  says,  he  hasn't 
the  strength  to  make  a  good  soldier." 

11  His  going  is  a  terrible  blow  to  mother," 
said  Susan.  "She  tries  to  bear  it  bravely; 
but  I  have  never  seen  her  so  overcome  by 
any  thing." 

"Yes,  he  has  always  been  her  favourite ; 
indeed,  the  favourite  of  us  all.  I  regret 
his  going  myself,  because  physical  strength 
is  worth  more  to  a  private  soldier  than  the 
finest  mind ;  but  it  can't  be  helped  now, 
and  we  must  decide  what  we  ought  to  do. 
It  does  seem  to  me  that  if  there  are  as 
many  volunteers  as  the  government  wants, 
I  had  better  stay  at  home  through  this 
summer  at  least.  By  fall  I  could  get  my 
business  arranged  so  that  I  could  leave  it 
much  more  easily.  But  the  country  comes 


THE    UPRISING.  279 

first ;  and,  if  we  find  more  men  are  needed, 
I  must  leave  you  and  mother  alone,  trust- 
ing that  you  will  be  taken  care  of." 

The  weeks  that  followed,  who  does  not 
remember  them? — the  weeks  when  ban- 
ners floated  on  every  breeze,  when  the 
sound  of  the  drum  was  heard  in  every 
village,  and  companies  of  young  men  were 
everywhere  seen  drilling  at  home  or  hurry- 
ing off  to  camps  for  more  thorough  train- 
ing. In  an  hour,  as  it  were,  the  nation 
which  had  been  lapped  in  the  profoundest 
peace  became  a  nation  of  soldiers,  and 
the  enthusiasm  which  prevailed  lifted  men 
above  not  only  the  fear  of  death,  but 
almost  above  all  thought  of  suffering  or 
disaster.  It  was  a  wonderful  spectacle, 
and  one  most  beautiful  in  its  aspect  of  self- 
sacrifice  and  love  of  country.  But  there 
was  an  undue  self-exaltation,  an  overween- 
ing spirit  of  confidence  in  our  ability  to  do 
whatever  we  undertook,  that  could  not  be 
justified  when  we  were  only  girding  on  our 
armour  for  the   conflict.     Who  dreamed 


280  THE    UPRISING. 

then  of  disaster  and  defeat?  How  proudly 
and  bravely  our  young  sons  and  brothers 
talked  with  flashing  eyes  of  success  and 
victory  !  And  fond  mothers  and  sisters 
cheered  them  on,  almost  as  hopeful  as 
they, — the  bright,  enthusiastic  youths 
whose  bones  were  to  whiten  every  battle- 
field from  the  Potomac  to  the  Mississippi ! 
Bit  they  were  a  gallant  band,  those  first 
young  volunteers;  and,  though  they  had 
the  false  confidence  of  youth  and  inexpe- 
rience, their  spirit  of  lofty  enthusiasm  was 
good  to  see,  and  the  nation  mourns  for 
them  as  for  her  beautiful,  her  well-beloved, 
and  holds  their  memory  as  something  to 
be  cherished  and  kept  sacred  through  all 
coming  time.  When  we  remember  them 
as  they  went  forth  in  those  summer-days, 
so  fresh,  so  fair,  so  hopeful,  and  then 
think  of  all  they  endured  in  the  battle- 
field and  hospital,  our  hearts  recoil  with 
an  agony  too  fearful,  too  real,  to  be  ex- 
pressed in  words. 

But  they   went  forth    from    pure    and 


THE    UPRISING.  281 

exalted  motives.  They  were  given  up  by 
their  friends  in  a  spirit  no  less  pure  and 
noble.  They  were  followed  by  untold 
prayers  and  blessings ;  and  we  know  their 
blood  has  not  been  shed  in  vain.  It  was 
not  for  nought  that  weeping  and  desola- 
tion came  into  all  our  dwellings,  and  the 
cry  of  anguish  went  up  from  thousands 
of  childless  mothers  into  the  ear  of  the 
God  of  hosts.  No  sacrifice  which  is  made 
for  a  righteous  principle  is  ever  made  in 
vain.  The  soul  is  always  ennobled  by  it 
and  brought  nearer  to  Him  who  gave  him- 
self a  sacrifice  for  many ;  and  we  know 
the  desolate  hearts  that  weep  for  their  lost 
ones  have  become  tenderer,  nobler  and 
stronger  than  they  could  have  been  with- 
out this  baptism  of  blood  and  agony.  God 
grant  that  we,  who  are  now  a  nation  of 
mourners,  may  become  also  a  nation  of 
penitents,  purified  through  suffering, — a 
nation  fearing  God  and  keeping  his  com- 
mandments ! 

Letters  frequently  came  to  the  red  house 

24* 


282  Sydney's  letter. 

from  Sydney,  written  in  such  fine  spirits 
as  to  cheer  all  their  hearts.  At  first  he 
was  stationed  at  Arlington  Heights,  but 
afterwards  removed  to  Fortress  Monroe, 
and  was  among  the  troops  that  took  a 
part  in  the  fight  at  Big  Bethel.  He  never 
complained  of  the  hardships  of  his  new 
life,  but,  on  the  contrary,  said  he  was 
never  so  vigorous,  and  that  he  believed 
the  hard  fare  and  out-of-door  life  were 
just  what  he  needed  to  make  a  man  of 
him. 

"Since  I  came  here,"  he  wrote  to  Leon- 
ard, "  I  have  found  out  what  I  was  de- 
signed for  ;  and  what  do  you  think  it  is? 
Why,  for  a  surgeon.  I  know  you  will 
laugh,  and  that  you  and  Mabel  will  put 
your  wise  heads  together  and  talk  about 
my  weak  nerves  and  my  inability  to  bear 
excitement,  and  all  that;  but  I  am  in  ear- 
nest, and  if  I  ever  go  home  I  shall  cer- 
tainly study  medicine  and  surgery.  After 
the  fight  at  Big  Bethel,  I  assisted,  as  T 
wrote  you,  in  bringing  in  the  wounded ; 


The  surgeon 


said  I  was  a  right  handy  fellow,  who  took  hold  in 


the  right  spot. 


p.  283. 


Sydney's  letter.  283 

and,  as  there  were  very  few  assistant  sur- 
geons, I  was  detailed  to  do  duty  in  the 
hospital.  I  witnessed  dreadful  scenes 
there,  I  assure  you, — crushed  and  mangled 
bodies,  broken  limbs,  and  horrid  gun-shot 
wounds  of  every  description.  To  my 
amazement,  I  found  myself  perfectly  calm 
and  my  nerves  as  steady  as  a  clock ;  and 
I  also  found  that  I  had  an  aptitude  for 
doing  what  was  required  of  me,  or,  as  the 
surgeon  said,  was  '  a  right  handy  fellow, 
who  took  hold  in  the  right  spot.'  You 
used  to  laugh  at  me  on  the  farm  for  being 
so  awkward  in  using  the  tools,  and  so  I 
was.  I  always  took  up  a  hoe  or  rake 
wrong  end  first ;  but  I  handle  broken 
limbs  and  bandages  famously,  I  can  assure 
you. 

"I  have  been  in  the  hospital,  more  or 
less,  ever  since,  and  it  has  been  a  real 
delight  to  me,  if  I  may  use  the  word  in 
such  a  connection ;  but  I  do  enjoy  it, 
because  I  know  I  am  alleviating  suffering. 
The  poor  fellows  are  so  grateful  for  even  a 


284  SYDNEY  S    LETTKR. 

kind  word,  that  I  often  think  I  should  be 
willing  to  be  a  hospital -nurse  all  my  life; 
but,  as  I  hope  the  war  won't  last  many 
years,  I  should  soon  get  out  of  employ- 
ment. There  are  a  great  many  oppor- 
tunities for  doing  good  here, — I  mean  to 
souls  as  well  as  bodies.  The  old  barriers 
wThich  keep  men  apart  in  society  are 
broken  down,  and  we  come  together  face 
to  face,  soul  to  soul.  You  know  I  never 
could  pray  in  a  public-meeting ;  but  I  lose 
all  my  nervous  timidity  when  I  kneel 
down  by  some  dying  soldier:  I  forget 
every  thing  then  but  God's  presence  and 
the  wants  of  that  poor  fellow-creature. 
Yes,  God  does  seem  very  near  us  in  the 
midst  of  these  terrible  scenes,  and  one 
feels  like  praying  as  he  never  did  before. 
They  say  familiarity  with  death  lessens 
its  solemnity  ;  but  I  doubt  if  any  man 
could  be  in  one  of  these  hospitals  and  not 
feel  the  need  of  something  beyond  human 
help. 


Sydney's  letter.  2<v5 

"  Yes,  my  heart  has  been  enlarged  and 
my  tongue  loosed ;  and  I  want  you  to  tell 
mother  that  I  never  before  felt  so  sure  I 
was  in .  my  right  place  as  I  do  now.  So 
she  must  thank  God  I  came,  instead  of 
worrying  about  me.  I  am  as  well  as  I 
can  be.  To  be  sure,  I  may  get  sick,  or  I 
may  be  killed  ;  but  I  shall  have  the  satis- 
faction of  knowing  I  tried  to  do  my  duty, 
which,  I  take  it,  is  worth  more  to  a  man, 
living  or  dying,  than  any  thing  else.  I 
should  write  you  oftener,  but  I  am  very 
busy.  I  have  written  a  good  many  letters 
for  the  sick  :  sad  and  touching  enough 
some  of  them  were.  Many  a  poor  fellow's 
heart  is  yearning  for  home  and  home- 
friends  as  he  lies  on  his  little  cot ;  but 
generally  the  sick  are  wonderfully  patient. 
More  than  once  I  have  taken  last  mes- 
sages irom  some  poor  boy,  and  then  written 
his  mother  of  his  death.  This  is  sad  work ; 
and  yet  the  blessing  of  some  of  these  poor 
fellows  lies  warm  at  my  heart.  I  have 
not  a  wish  to  be  anywhere  but  where  I 


286  A    DISASTER. 

am  :  let  that  comfort  you,  dear  friends,  if 
any  thing  should  happen  to  me." 

*  *  :•:  *  #  * 

Leonard  continued  to  work  on  the  farm 
quietly  through  the  summer-months;  for, 
as  there  were  plenty  of  volunteers  to  meet 
the  requisition  of  the  President,  he  believed 
it  was  his  duty  to  stay  at  home.  Occa- 
sionally some  townsman  would  ill-na- 
turedly remark, 

11  There's  Leonard  Roberts  ;  all  his  fine 
talk  about  patriotism  don't  amount  to 
much.  Why  don't  he  enlist,  if  he  cares 
so  much  for  the  country?" 

But,  so  long  as  he  knew  he  did  care  for 
his  country,  he  was  not  annoyed.  To  have 
his  heart  right  before  God  was  his  main 
desire ;  and  he  believed  he  was  loyal  in  His 
sight.  So  he  kept  on  working  and  hoping. 
But  when  the  news  came  of  the  Bull-Run 
defeat,  even  Leonard's  strong  faith  was 
sorelv  shaken  for  a  time  :  it  was  so  unex- 
pected, so  humiliating,  so  terrible  ! 

"  If  our  troops  hadn't  run,  I  could  have 


A    DISASTER.  28? 

borne  it,"  said  Mabel,  as  they  sat  gloomily 
talking  over  the  details.  "Defeat  would 
have  been  nothing,  but  disgrace!  oh, 
Leonard,"  she  cried,  covering  her  face 
with  her  hands,  "I  don't  feel  as  if  I 
could  ever  look  on  the  old  flag  again.  It 
has  been  disgraced.  The  stars  and  stripes 
lie  trailing  in  the  dust !  I  believe  it  will 
break  my  heart." 

"Other  troops  and  better-disciplined 
ones  than  our's  have  fled  in  a  panic,"  he 
answered  ;  "but  it  is  dreadful.  The  worst 
of  it  is,  it  makes  us  doubt  whether  our 
volunteers  will  make  good  soldiers  ;  and 
we  have  no  others;  we  must  rely  on  them. 
I  believe,  though,  they  will  yet  prove 
themselves  worthy  of  confidence.  I  can't 
believe  Yankee  boys  can  ever  be  cowards !" 

"Do  you  suppose  God  can  be  on  their 
side  ?"  asked  Mabel,  despondingly.  "Is 
he  going  to  suffer  the  nation  to  be  de- 
stroyed?" 

"On  their  side?  No,  Mabel,  no!  He 
on  the  side  of  treachery  and  slavery  ? — 


288  CONFESSION. 

never!  Whatever  else  is  false,  God  is 
true.  He  may  suffer  wickedness  to  pros- 
per for  a  time,  as  he  often  has  in  the 
world's  history;  but  approve  of  their 
course, — that  he  never  can !  No,  let  defeat 
and  ruin  come,  I  will  still  keep  my  faith 
in  Him, — still  feel  that  there  is  one  rock 
unmoved  amid  all  the  billows  that  are 
overwhelming  us !" 

"We  have  been  an  arrogant  and  sinful 
nation,"  said  Mrs.  Roberts.  "We  need 
chastisement,  and  I  hope  we  shall  receive 
it  in  a  right  spirit.  Let  us  humble  our- 
selves under  the  mighty  hand  of  God,  and 
turn  away  from  our  iniquities,  and  see  if 
the  Lord  will  not  bless  and  save  us." 

"  Yes,  we  are  a  sinful  nation,"  said 
Leonard.  "  Though  I  believe  we  are 
right  in  this  contest,  we  are  wicked  and 
deserve  rebuke :  there  is  no  doubt  of  that. 
If  we  are  not  guilty  of  the  same  sins  as 
the  men  of  the  South,  we  have  committed 
others  just  as  heinous,  it  may  be,  in  the 
sight  of  a  just  God,  as  their's." 


A   NEW    SPIRIT.  26(J 

That  was  a  dark  day, — a  day  in  which 
the  light  in  many  souls  went  out  and  they 
sat  in  darkness  and  the  shadow  of  death. 
But  in  time  the  cloud  disappeared,  and  men 
once  more  looked  up  and  walked  erect.  All 
was  not  lost,  and  every  loyal  citizen  felt 
that,  instead  of  yielding  to  despair,  he  must 
rouse  himself  to  new  efforts ;  and  so  the 
call  for  more  men  was  met  as  promptly, 
if  not  as  exultingly,  as  before.  New  regi- 
ments flocked  to  the  camps,  and  wives, 
mothers  and  sisters  again  consecrated  their 
bravest  and  best-beloved  to  the  cause,  with 
an  enthusiasm  less  noisy,  perhaps,  but  still 
more  deep  and  earnest  than  at  first.  The 
fearful  nature  of  war  was  better  under- 
stood, but  the  confidence  they  felt  in  the 
justice  of  their  cause  was  stronger  than 
ever;  and  this  raised  them  above  all  cow- 
ardly misgivings.  It  was  very  touching 
to  see  fathers  and  mothers  whose  sons 
were  lying  buried  under  Southern  soil  or 
in  prison  at  Richmond,  now  sending  off 

25 


290  AX    EABNEST   SPIRIT. 

others    with    prayers     and    blessings    as 
bravely  as  at  first. 

Again  Leonard  considered  the  question 
of  enlisting.  Had  there  been  any  want 
of  men,  he  would  not  have  hesitated  a 
single  moment ;  but  as  many  were  enlist- 
ing as  the  government  had  called  for  or 
could  arm  :  so  he  decided  to  stay  at  home 
and  gather  in  his  crops.  But  he  put  every 
thing  in  readiness  to  leave,  if  it  should 
become  necessary;  and  he  neglected  no- 
thing that  could  be  done  for  the  country 
at  home.  He  contributed  liberally  to  the 
fund  raised  for  the  families  of  the  volun- 
teers ;  and  each  member  of  his  family 
was  an  active  worker  for  the  hospitals. 
Not  one  was  idle  :  each  could  do  some- 
thing,— grandmother,  mother  and  children, 
old  and  young,  could  sew  or  knit,  or 
scrape  lint,  or  pick  berries,  for  the  soldiers ; 
and  each  was  willing  to  go  without  every- 
thing not  absolutely  essential,  that  they 
might    send    something*  to  the    sick   and 


AN    EARNEST    SPIRIT.  291 

wounded  who  were  away  from  home  and 
all  home-comforts. 

Thus  the  months  wore  away  and  the 
year  1861  closed  ;  alas  !  how  mournfully 
in  many  a  bereaved  household, — how 
anxiously  in  all !  for  few  could  forget,  even 
if  their  own  loved  ones  were  safe,  how 
many  others  had  fallen,  and  still  must  fall 
before  the  war  was  ended ! 


292  THE    NEW    CAPTAIN. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE    NEW    CAPTAIN. 

In  the  summer  of  the  succeeding  year, 
1862,  a  call  was  made  for  additional 
volunteers.  This  was  not  responded  to  so 
enthusiastically  as  the  previous  ones,  partly 
because  a  feeling  of  despondency  was  creep- 
ing over  the  land,  and  partly  because  those 
most  likely  to  enlist  had  already  done  so. 
This  was  the  time  for  truly  loyal  souls  to 
trim  their  lamps  and  keep  their  faith  in 
God  and  their  cause  burning.  The  timid 
and  the  wavering,  of  course,  lost  hope;  and 
some  who  if  success  had  crowned  our  cause 
would  have  been  considered  loyal  citizens, 
turned  false  to  it,  and  joined  hands  with 
traitors.  In  all  great  undertakings  there 
comes  such  a  turning-point;  and  then  the 
metal  of  which  souls  are  made  is  tested. 


A    NEW  -VIEW.  293 

Leonard's  was  one  to  ring  back  true  and 
clear.  If  the  feeble-minded  were  predict- 
ing ruin,  and  the  false-hearted  proving 
treacherous,  he  considered  it  so  much  the 
more  necessary  that  all  true  lovers  of  their 
country  should  come  to  the  rescue.  If  the 
enemy  were  crossing  the  Potomac  and 
likely  to  take  Washington,  so  much  the 
more  reason  why  the  army  should  be 
strengthened,  instead  of  men's  staying  at 
home  and  grumbling  at  the  government 
and  the  generals,  even  if  they  had  made 
great  mistakes,  as  very  likely,  being  fal- 
lible men,  they  had.  The  goodness  of  the 
cause  did  not,  with  him,  depend  on  the 
measure  of  its  success.  If  it  was  right 
to  defend  the  Union  from  dissolution  at 
first,  it  was  right  to  defend  it  now  ;  and 
defend  it  he  would,  so  far  as  lay  in  his 
power. 

1 '  This  is  the  first  time  since  the  com- 
mencement of  the  war  that  there  has  been 
any  lack  of  volunteers,"  he  said  to  Susan. 
"I  have  always  said  I  should  go  when  there 


294  A    NEW.  DECISION. 

was ;  and  I  have  decided  to  go  now.  There 
is  a  meeting  to-night  for  forming  another 

company   in   the regiment.     I  shall 

join  that,  I  think." 

The  words  were  spoken  in  a  more  busi- 
ness-like tone  than  they  would  have  been 
a  year  before,  and  his  wTife  heard  them 
more  calmly ;  but  whether  it  was  in  reality 
any  easier  to  bear  the  trial  of  parting  it 
would  be  dificult  to  say.  She  wTas  more 
walling  he  should  go,  because  she  saw- 
more  clearly  the  necessity  for  it,  and 
because  a  year  of  sacrifices  had  enlarged 
her  heart  and  made  the  cause  for  which 
she  had  prayed  and  laboured  still  more 
sacred  and  dear;  but  she  also  knew  better 
the  dangers  to  which  he  wras  exposing 
himself ;  for  by  that  time  the  first  vague 
idea  of  war  and  its  evils  had  given  way 
to  a  sadly  accurate  comprehension  of  its 
horrors. 

After  Leonard  wTent  to  the  meeting, 
she  sat  alone,  sewing  steadily  as  ever;  but 
her  fancy  was  busy  drawing  painful  pic- 


STRONG    FAITH.  295 

tares  of  what  her  husband  might  suffer  in 
camps  or  hospitals,  for  she  had  come  to* 
dread  the  latter  almost  more  than  the 
actual  battle-field,  so  many  had  died  in 
them.  But,  in  spite  of  this,  her  heart 
rested  calmly  on  God  and  his  overruling 
providence.  She  believed  that  he  had  laid 
on  this  generation  the  settlement  of  great 
questions,  and  that  it  was  far  nobler  to 
suffer  for  the  right  and  to  lay  down  life 
for  it,  even,  than  to  live  in  ease  at  home. 

11  Your  faith  would  fail,  if  it  was  your 
husband  who  was  going,"  was  what  the 
wife  of  a  soldier,  whom  she  was  trying  to 
comfort,  had  once  said  to  her.  "  I  tell 
you,  faith  gives  out  when  the  time  comes." 

But  Susan's  faith  did  not  give  out.  Gen- 
uine faith  never  does,  but  burns  brighter 
and  fills  the  soul  with  warmth  and  cour- 
age just  when  they  are  most  needed. 
When  Leonard  came  home,  they  discussed 
their  plans  very  quietly.  Uncle  Roger 
was  to  come  and  have  the-  direction  of  the 
business.     He  would  not   be  able   to  do 


296  PROMOTION. 

much  work,  but  he  was  an  excellent 
manager,  and  the  hired  man  was  trusty 
and  faithful.  The  volunteers  were  to  go 
into  camp  in  a  few  days  ;  but,  as  it  was 
only  six  miles  from  Woodlee.  Leonard 
hoped  to  be  able  to  come  home  once  or 
twice  before  their  final  departure.  His 
enlistment  was  for  three  years  or  during 
the  war  ;  the  regiment  to  which  his  com- 
pany belonged  being  one  of  the  last  which 
was  filled  up  before  the  call  for  nine- 
months  men  was  made. 

To  Leonard's  surprise,  the  company  pro- 
posed to  make  him  their  captain  ;  but  he 
at  once  declined,  giving  as  a  reason  his 
total  ignorance  of  all  military  matters  : 
indeed,  he  had  never  drilled  before  in  his 
life,  except  under  the  direction  of  an  old 
militia-captain.  But  Colonel  TowTne  and 
several  other  influential  citizens  urged  him 
to  accept,  assuring  him  he  was  better  fitted 
for  the  command  than  any  other  man  in 
the  company.  So  far  as  courage  and  intel- 
ligence were  concerned,  he  doubtless  was; 


MILITARY  HONOURS.  297 

and,  as  the  colonel  laughingly  said,  "They 
were  all  pretty  much  on  the  same  level, 
if  familiarity  with  military  tactics  was  to 
be  taken  into  the  account."  Finding  that 
the  knowledge  requisite  could  be  acquired 
in  the  camp,  where  they  were  expected  to 
remain  some  time,  and  perhaps  aware  him- 
self that  no  man  would  be  more  consci- 
entious in  discharging  the  duties  of  the 
position,  he  at  last  consented  to  take  the 
command.  The  company  was  composed 
of  one  hundred  and  one  men,  forty  of  whom 
belonged  to  Woodlee,  and  all  of  them  were 
well  known  to  Leonard. 

Serious  as  the  feelings  of  all  parties  were 
at  this  juncture,  Susan  could  not  forbear 
an  occasional  joke  about  her  husband's 
military  honours ;  indeed,  she  seemed  de- 
termined that  his  last  few  days  at  home 
should  be  as  cheerful  as  possible.  Once 
having  settled  that  a  certain  course  of  action 
was  right,  Leonard  himself  was  always  calm 
in  pursuing  it;  and  no  one  who  had  seen 
him  in  his  own  home  or  in  the  red  house 


298     TRUE  TO  THE  OLD  FLAG. 

would  have  dreamed  he  was  preparing  for 
any  thing  more  than  an  ordinary  journey. 
The  old  flag  waved  gayly  from  its  accus- 
tomed point,  and  he  never  caught  a  glimpse 
of  it  without  feeling  a  warmer  glow  at  his 
heart.  "I  am  true  to  it,"  he  would  say  to 
himself.  "lam  willing  to  lay  down  my 
life  for  it,  as  grandfather  charged  me." 
But  he  seldom  said  even  this  aloud. 

Nothing  that  could  be  done  by  him  to 
make  the  two  families  comfortable  during 
his  absence  was  forgotten ;  no  little  arrange- 
ment overlooked.  He  also  quietly  talked 
with  Susan  of  what  he  wanted  done  in  his 
business,  and  in  regard  to  the  children,  if 
he  never  came  back, — for  neither  of  them 
shrank  from  looking  the  future  fairly  in  the 
face ;  and  even  the  mother,  now  she  was 
to  part  from  her  last  son,  seemed  far  more 
cheerful  and  calm  than  when  Sydney  left 
her.  It  is  a  noticeable  fact,  that  during  the 
war  those  who  have  made  the  fewest  sacri- 
fices for  their  country  are  those  who  com- 
plain most  of  the  hardships  of  the  war; 


A    MUSTER.  299 

while  those  who  have  given  their  children, 
and  even  buried  the  most  precious  of  them 
in  its  service,  are  those  who  are  looking 
forward  with  the  greatest  composure  and 
hopefulness  to  the  final  result.  That  for 
which  we  have  made  sacrifices  we  love  : 
those  who  have  given  most  to  their  country 
love  it  best. 

It  was  a  pleasant  day  in  August  when 
Leonard  and  his  company  marched  to  the 
music  of  a  brass-band  from  Woodlee  to  the 
camp.  Forming  on  the  green  at  Woodlee 
centre,  they  passed  directly  by  the  red 
house,  and  the  children  of  both  families 
were  thrown  into  the  most  joyful  excite- 
ment by  the  music,  and  the  sight  of  "  the 
pretty  soldiers,"  as  Charlie  called  them. 
Leonard  dared  not  trust  himself  to  look 
towards  the  house.  One  glance  at  the  old 
flag,  and  up  at  the  clear  heavens  above  it, 
was  all  he  gave  in  that  direction ;  but  above 
the  tread  of  feet  and  the  noise  of  drums 
and  fifes  he  heard  a  gleeful,  childish  shout, 
' '  There's  my  pa-pa !"  Blinding  tears  rushed 


300  A    NEW    RESOLVE. 

to  his  eyes ;  for  Leonard  was  a  tender  father, 
and  Charlie  was  his  pet  and  pride ;  but  he 
dashed  them  away,  and  only  vowed  the 
more  earnestly  to  do  all  he  could  to  pre- 
serve a  free  and  undivided  country  for  his 
boys  to  dwell  in. 

The regiment  was  summoned  to  the 

seat  of  war  much  sooner  than  was  expected, 
and  Leonard  only  came  home  once  after 
going  into  camp.  Fortunately,  the  precise 
time  for  their  leaving  was  not  then  known ; 
for,  though  Leonard  was  pretty  certain  in 
his  own  mind  he  should  not  come  home 
again,  the  doubt  prevented  a  last  farewell. 
The  last  day  of  his  stay,  he  was  detained 
in  the  centre  of  the  town  by  business  till 
after  dark;  and,  as  he  came  past  the  bury- 
ing-ground  on  his  way  home,  an  irresistible 
impulse  led  him  to  open  the  little  white 
gate  and  seek  his  grandfather's  grave.  A 
plain  marble  slab  marked  it,  bearing,  be- 
sides his  name  and  age,  only  this  simple 
inscription : — 

"loyal  to  god  and  his  country." 


A    TRYING    MOMENT.  301 

Leonard  stood  some  minutes  beside  it, 
lost   in   thought.     He  went  back  to  the 
days  of  his    childhood,  and  remembered 
the  talks  of  the  old  gentleman,  and  his 
earnest    desire    to    have    his    descendants 
loyal  to  the  country  he  had  loved  so  well 
himself.     Then  he  thought  of  the  changes 
that  had  come  over  this  country,  and  how 
the  whole  land  was  now  filled  with  violence 
and  blood, — torn  asunder  and  rent  by  fac- 
tion and  hatred  and  wild,  fierce  passions. 
It  was  a  dreadful  picture  to  contemplate 
in  that  stillness ;  and  now  he  himself  was 
about  to  mingle  in  the  fray  and  to  shed 
his  brothers'  blood, — very  likely  to  lose  his 
own  life  in  the  contest !     It  was  a  trying 
moment;  and  had  Leonard's  convictions  of 
duty  been  based  on  any  thing  less  firm,  or 
been  more  hastily  formed,  they  might  have 
given  way.     But  he  had  carefully  made  up 
his  mind ;  and,  terrible  as  the  alternative 
was,  he  was  confident  that  no  choice  was 
left  to  a  man  who  loved  his  country  and 
the  principles  on  which  its  government  was 


302  NO    MISTAKE. 

founded,  but  to  fight  now  for  their  main- 
tenance. "Yes,"  he  said,  looking  up  fear- 
lessly into  the  heavens,  with  nothing 
between  his  soul  and  God's  eye  of  truth, 
"there  can  be  no  mistake.  I  am  fighting 
for  a  cause  which  God  approves, — the  cause 
of  justice,  of  freedom,  of  human  rights. 
His  blessing  will  go  with  me,  and  I  will 
not  fear  what  men  can  do  unto  me." 

Then,  reverently  uncovering  his  head 
and  kneeling  on  the  grave,  he  prayed  that 
he  too  might  live  and  die  loyal  to  God  and 
to  his  country,  and  loyal  to  the  great  prin- 
ciples of  eternal  justice  which  underlie 
God's  throne  and  uphold  all  righteous 
human  governments.  When  he  rose  and 
looked  up  to  the  sky,  now  gleaming  with 
myriads  of  bright  stars,  he  almost  believed 
he  could  see  his  grandfather's  face  smiling 
approvingly  upon  him,  and  hear  him  again 
saying,  "You  can  be  a  patriot,  Leonard: 
God  grant  you  always  may  be ! "  "I  should 
hardly  dare  to  meet  you  in  another  world, 
dear  grandfather,"  he  murmured,  "if  I  had 


AN    EARNEST    SPIRIT.  303 

failed  to  do  my  duty  in  this  crisis.  I  know 
if  you  were  living,  you  would  have  sent 
me  to  fight  under  the  old  flag,  perhaps 
long  ago." 

As  he  walked  home  beneath  the  star- 
light, he  looked  earnestly  at  each  familiar 
object — the  hills,  the  trees,  and  rocks — with 
a  consciousness  that  probably  it  was  his 
last'  look ;  and  it  was  wonderful  even  to 
himself  how  calmly  he  could  do  it,  and  of 
how  little  consequence  life  seemed  when 
weighed  against  such  tremendous  interests 
as  were  now  involved. 

His  mind  ran  backward  over  his  past  » 
life.  Thirty-two  years  he  had  lived : 
years  of  labour  and  hardship,  but  also  years 
of  great  tranquillity  and  enjoyment,  had 
they  been.  God's  blessing  had  rested  on 
the  labour  of  his  hands,  and  he  believed  it 
would  rest  on  him  still.  Oh,  how  earnestly 
in  that  hour  did  he  bless  God  for  the  hope 
that  when  he  was  called  away  from  'this 
life,  it  would  not  be  to  death  and  annihi- 
lation, but  to  a  higher  life  and  to  nobler 


304  POWER    OF    FAITH. 

service  :  so  that  if  the  call  came  soon  and 
suddenly,  he  need  fear  no  evil,  because  the 
same  God  who  had  hitherto  blessed  him 
would  still  be  his  stay  and  portion  forever. 
With  the  sailor-boy  who  so  many  years 
ago  had  passed  from  the  bosom  of  the 
ocean  to  the  bosom  of  God,  he  could  say, 
"I  know  God  can  take  care  of  me  just  as 
well  in  another  world  as  in  this."  How, 
then,  could  he  fear  to  die  in  a  righteous 
cause? 

He  saw  how  this  faith  in  God  had  been 
the  blessing  of  his  whole  life, — how  through 
that  all  knowledge  had  been  hallowed,  all 
toil  ennobled,  and  all  horne-joys  made  sweet 
and  sacred.  Heartily,  too,  he  thanked  God 
for  giving  him  pious  and  loyal  ancestors, 
who  had  taught  him  to  love  God  and  his 
country;  and  his  soul  glowed  with  a  con- 
sciousness that  he  was  not  wholly  unworthy 
to  be  their  descendant,  but  was  now  per- 
mitted to  show  that  he  too  loved  the  coun- 
try they  had  left  him  for  an  inheritance. 
That  hour r  so  calm,  so  full  of  deep  emotion, 


POWER    OF    FAITH.  305 

in  spite  of  the  uncertainty  and  the  impend- 
ing separation,  was  not  a  gloomy  one  to 
Leonard,  but  rather  one  of  heartfelt  thanks- 
giving,— an  hour  made  sacred  by  that 
solemn  joy  vouchsafed  by  God  only  to 
those  who  leave  all  to  follow  him. 

It  was  comparatively  easy  for  the  man 
and  the  patriot  to  give  his  life  for  his 
country;  but  for  the  father,  the  sacrifice 
was  much  more  difficult.  As  he  came  in 
sight  of  the  two  cottages  nestled  so  peace- 
fully under  the  green  trees,  and  thought 
of  their  inmates, — the  mother  who  bore 
him,  the  wife  of  his  bosom,  the  children 
of  his  love, — and  of  how  desolate  and  un- 
protected they  would  be  if  he  should  die, 
a  sharp  pang  shot  through  his  heart.  But 
even  above  this  fear,  faith  could  carry  him 
triumphantly.  Desolate,  with  God  for  their 
father  and  friend!  Unprotected,  with  the 
arm  of  the  Almighty  for  their  shield  and 
buckler !  He  took  shame  to  himself  for 
the  thought;  and,  while  his  heart  thrilled 
to  its  very  core  with   inexpressible   ten- 

26* 


306  POWER    OF    FAITH. 

derness  for  them,  he  laid  them,  too,  in  the 
arms  of  the  loving  Father  without  one 
fear, — the  Father  who  was  so  much  wiser 
and  more  loving  than  he,  and  who  would 
"never  leave  them  nor  forsake  them." 

At  home,  the  same  animating  faith  was 
lifting  up  the  souls  of  his  wife  and  mother; 
and  while  they  were  thus  able  to  give 
themselves  and  each  other  into  God's 
keeping,  they  could  be  calm  and  hopeful. 
1 '  Thou  wilt  h  eep  It  im  in  perfect  peace  whose 
mind  is  stayed  on  thee,  because  he  trusteth 
in  thee. ' '  This  promise  so  graciously  made, 
the  faithful  soul  always  finds  is  kept :  the 
only  difficulty  is  that  in  hours  of  trial  and 
temptation  our  souls  are  too  rarely  "stayed 
on  God,"  and  hence  fail  to  enjoy  the  "per- 
fect peace"  promised  by  Him  who  cannot 
lie. 


ARMY    LETTERS.  307 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

ARMY    LETTERS. 

The  regiment  to  which  Leonard  belonged 
was  ordered  to  join  the  Army  of  the  Po- 
tomac. They  reached  their  destination  in 
safety,  after  the  usual  amount  of  discomfort 
by  the  way  ;  and  every  week  brought  a 
letter  from  the  captain,  either  to  his  wife 
or  mother.  It  was  a  time  of  despondency 
in  many  hearts,  those  early  autumn  months 
of  1862;  but  he  always  wrote  in  good 
spirits,  and  with  a  hearty  confidence  in 
God  and  the  cause  he  was  fighting  for. 
Yet,  in  spite  of  this,  Susan's  faith  some- 
times faltered;  and  in  one  of  her  letters 
to  her  husband  she  wrote,  "  I  could  bear 
all  this  terrible  sacrifice  of  life  if  there 
were  only  a  prospect  that  the  country 
would  be  saved  bv  it ;   but  I  can't  bear  to 


308  AKMY    LETTERS. 

think  that  all  this  precious  blood  is  being 
shed  in  vain." 

In  reply,  Leonard  wrote,  "I  know  per- 
fectly well,  my  clear  wife,  that  you  have 
faith  enough  in  God  to  "trust  yourself  and 
your  children  and  me  in  his  hands,  to  be 
disposed  of  as  he.  shall  see  best,  and  you 
feel  certain  he  will  do  what  is  right  by  us 
all.  Xow,  can't  you  leave  your  country 
also  in  his  hands,  and  feel  just  as  sure  that 
he  will  do  what  is  right  by  that  f  I  think  I 
can ;  though  for  a  good  while  after  the  com- 
mencement of  the  war,  when  I  thought  of 
the  bare  possibility  of  our  failure,  I  rebelled 
against  it,  and  said,  'I  can  submit  to  any 
thing  else,  but  not  to  see  my  country  dis- 
graced and  ruined.'  But  should  we  not 
be  as  willing  God  should  reign  among  the 
nations,  as  in  our  families?  He  does  reign, 
and  will  accomplish  his  purposes,  whether 
we  are  willing  or  not ;  and  if  we  are  true 
Christians  we  shall  feel  so  certain  that 
these  purposes  are  just  and  righteous  ones, 
that  we   shall   rejoice   in  their  fulfilment 


ARMY    LETTERS.  309 

even  where  they  cross  our  wishes.  We 
are  such  very  short-sighted  creatures  that 
we  may  desire  for  our  country  what  God 
sees  would  be  an  injury  to  it,  or  an  injury 
to  the  best  interests  of  humanity.  So  let 
us  rejoice  that  it  is  his  will,  and  not  ours, 
which  is  to  be  done.  The  cause  of  free- 
dom, of  civilization,  of  human  happiness, 
is  not  going  backwards  in  this  nineteenth 
century.  God  will  take  care  of  that,  and 
in  his  own  way  insure  its  success.  Let 
what  will  be  the  result  of  this  war,  the 
great  principles  of  freedom  and  righteous- 
ness for  which  we  contend  are  safe — safe 
now  and  forever — in  God's  keeping.  This 
certainty  keeps  one  from  discouragement 
under  all  reverses, — some  of  which  are 
hard  enough  to  bear,  I  admit.  I  believe 
our  cause  will  finally  succeed,  because  I 
think  our  triumph  will  be  the  triumph  of 
right  principles.  But  we  are  a  very  sinful 
nation ;  and  when  I  see  how  much  fraud 
and  corruption  there  is  everywhere  among 
us,  I  sometimes  think  we  deserve  to  perish : 


310  ARMY    LETTERS. 

at  any  rate,  we  deserve  severe  chastise- 
ment, and  shall  doubtless  receive  it.  And, 
if  by  that  means  we  may  be  made  better 
and  more  honest,  let  us  welcome  the  dis- 
cipline as  the  fire  wThich  is  to  refine  and 
purify  us  and  make  us  a  nation  fit  to 
serve  God  and  benefit  the  world.  If  we 
do  all  we  can  to  preserve  our  country  firm 
on  its  old  basis  of  union  and  constitutional 
liberty,  and  then  fail,  we  shall  not  be  to 
blame.  I  don't  believe  we  shall  fail ;  but 
I  wTish  to  stay  your  soul  and  mine  on 
something  firmer  than  any  human  govern- 
ment,— even  on  the  eternal  love  and  justice 
of  the  great  Jehovah." 

At  another  time  he  wrote  as  follows : — 
11  You  know,  dear  mother,  how  I  liked 
to  watch  the  stars  when  I  was  a  child ;  and 
now  when  I  am  on  duty  I  enjoy  it  more 
than  ever.  What  a  host  of  memories 
sometimes  come  over  me  as  I  look  at 
them;  they  are  so  associated  with  you  all, 
and  with  the  dear  old  hills  around  Wood- 
lee.     I  know  they  are  shining  on  the  old 


ARMY    LETTERS,  311 

homestead,  and  I  can  see  just  how  quietly 
the  red  house  and  the  white  cottage  are 
standing  there  in  the  deep  shadows.  I 
am  never  homesick ;  I  have  never  for  a 
moment  regretted  coming ;  but  I  some- 
times feel  a  great  longing  to  see  you  all. 
Still,  if  a  wish  would  take  me  back,  I 
would  not  go.  No,  I  am  glad  to  be  doing 
my  part  in  this  conflict, — glad  to  give  one 
life,  if  it  is  needed,  for  the  good  cause. 
The  Woodlee  boys  are  a  fine  set  of  fellows, 
and  I  feel  proud  of  them.  I  laughed  heartily 
over  that  letter  of  Russell's  to  the  London 
Times,  in  which  he  seems  so  shocked  to 
find  that  the  privates  in  our  army  are  on 
hand-shaking  terms  with  their  captain, 
and  saying,  '  How  dy'e  do  ?'  to  him,  just 
as  if  he  were  one  of  themselves.  Just 
imagine  me  giving  myself  airs,  and  re- 
fusing to  be  familiar 'with  my  old  neigh- 
bours and  friends !  I  mean  they  shall  obey 
my  orders  promptly  and  to  the  letter;  and 
they  do  it  all  the  more  readily  that  they 
know  me  well  and  have  always  been  on 


312  ARMY    LETT! 

familiar,  hand-shaking  terms  with  me.  My 
men  are  too  intelligent  to  take  advantage 
of  this  intimacy ;  but  some  regiments  are 
made  up  of  men  who  need  keeping  down. 
They  haven't  self-respect  enough  to  know 
their  place  except  when  they  are  made  to. 
But  our  New  England  boys,  those  from 
country  towns  especially,  are  of  a  different 
stamp.  As  I  say,  I  am  proud  of  my  com- 
pany, for  they  are  almost  without  exception 
steady,  intelligent,  moral  young  men,  and 
many  of  them  religious  men,  who  are  glad 
to  have  a  service  on  Sunday  and  a  prayer- 
meeting  in  the-week ;  both  which  I  always 
attend  if  possible. 

"But  star-gazing  brings  other  thoughts, 
too, — thoughts  of  how  infinite  God  is,  and 
of  how  his  mind  grasps  all  worlds  and  all 
periods  of  time.  Why,  we  think  because 
one  little  part  of  our  planet  is  in  a  tumult 
now,  that  all  is  confusion.  But  there  are 
these  millions  of  worlds  moving  on  in 
their  orbits  just  as  calmly  and  peacefully 


ARMY    LETTERS.  .  313 

as  ever,  and  God  is  quietly  watching  over 
them  and  over  us  all. 

"  '  Thy  throne  eternal  ages  stood 
Ere  seas  or  stars  were  made  : 
Thou  art  the  ever-living  God, 
Were  all  the  nations  dead.' 

"That  is  a  grand  old  hymn  of  Watts 's. 
Do  sing  it  once  in  a  while,  or,  rather,  sing 
it  every  Sunday  night.  I  shall  like  to 
think  of  you  as  all  joining  in  it  to  old 
Mear.  I  always  fancy  you  are  singing 
Sunday  nights,  just  as  we  used  to.  I  hope 
you  miss  my  tenor  a  little;  but  Uncle 
Roger  can  give  you  a  glorious  bass,  which 
will  more  than  make  it  up.  To  sing  these 
old  hymns  from  the  heart  will  do  you  all 
good. 

11  You  will  smile  when  I  tell  you  I  am 
studying  astronomy.  There  is  a  good  deal 
of  time  when  we  are  not  on  drill ;  and  my 
old  habit  of  taking  up  a  book  at  odd 
moments  clings  to  me  yet.  Among  the 
books  sent  to  the  hospital — a  curious  col- 
lection of    old  rubbish   from   somebody's 

27 


314     •  ARMY    LETT  I 

garret — I    found    an    old    school-book    on 

o 

astronomy,  well  thumbed  and  soiled;  and, 
as  nobody  wanted  it,  I  brought  it  to  my 
tent,  and  am  making  my  way  through  it 
by  degrees,  taking  observations  of  the  sky 
at  night,  and  sometimes  getting  a  look 
through  the  telescope  at  the  observatory, 
the  officers  there  being  very  kind  and 
civil  to  me.  We  try  all  ways  to  beguile 
the  time  in  camp ;  and  this  is  much  more 
to  my  taste  than  the  card-playing  so  many 
indulge  in." 

Not  only  from  Leonard  himself,  but 
from  the  letters  of  his  men  to  their  fami- 
lies, his  wife  got  news  of  him  very  fre- 
quently :  these  latter  told  how  firm  he 
was  in  enforcing  discipline,  how  thought- 
ful of  their  comfort,  and  how  much  they 
all  respected  and  loved  him. 

11  Ah,  yes,"  said  his  old  teacher,  Misa 
Brace,  when  she  had  listened  to  one  of 
these  letters,  "Leonard  Roberts  knew  how 
to  obey, — the  first  requisite  for  a  good  com- 
mander :  he  was  such  a  truthful,  honest 


ARMY    LETTERS.  315 

boy,  I  always  knew  he  would  make  a  first- 
rate  man." 

They  heard  often  from  Sydney,  too.  He 
had  been  slightly  wounded  in  two  battles, 
— for  he  had  been  in  all  the  battles  before 
Richmond,  and  in  the  retreat  which  fol- 
lowed,— but  had  recovered,  and  he  wrote 
in  the  autumn  that  his  health  was  never 
better.  One  of  his  old  college-tutors  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  his  colonel,  speaking 
in  the  highest  terms  of  his  la-bours  among 
the  sick  and  wounded,  and  of  his  holding 
meetings  for  the  well,  as  well  as  reading 
and  praying  with  the  sick  and  dying. 

"He  is  worth  more  than  half  our  chap- 
lains, so  far  as  the  souls  of  the  men  are 
concerned,"  wrote  the  colonel;  "  for  he  is 
always  doing  good  somewhere,  when  off 
duty.  You  wouldn't  know  him  now  for 
the  puny,  bashful  senior  who  enlisted 
eighteen  months  ago.  He  looks  bluff  and 
hearty  as  any  man  among  us." 

Yes,  strange  as  it  would  have  seemed 
if  any  one  had  predicted  it,  the  pale,  deli- 


316  FRCIT    BEARING. 

cate,  sensitive  lad  had  found  his  right 
place  in  the  army ;  and  his  powers,  phy- 
sical and  mental,  had  developed  into  a 
manlier  and  healthier  growth  than  they 
would  have  reached  anywhere  else.  The 
excellent  home-training  received  in  the 
old  red  house  showed  its  fruits  now;  and 
the  mother  who  had  simply  aimed  at 
making  them  industrious,  honest,  God- 
fearing boys,  rejoiced  to  find  they  had 
both  become  courageous  and  useful  men, 
who  were  doing  good  service  to  their 
country. 

So  the  months  wore  away ;  and  the 
inmates  of  the  red  house  were  quiet  and 
usually  hopeful.  The  gray  locks  on  Mary 
Roberts's  brow  grew  grayer  still,  but  her 
blue  eye  retained  its  old  brightness  ;  and 
she  gathered  her  five  grandchildren  around 
her  in  the  little  parlour,  and  showed  them 
the  ostrich-eggs  and  corals  and  the  beau- 
tiful  sea-shells,  and  told  them  stories  about 
the  wonderful  islands  that  lie  bathed  in 
sunshine  far  out  on  the  bosom  of  the  great 


THE    LITTLE    ORPHANS.  317 

ocean,  just  as  she  had  told  them  to  their 
parents  ;  and  they  listened  just  as  eagerly, 
and  asked  for  more  stories  just  as  perse  ver- 
ingly.  Sometimes  they  tired  her;  but  still 
their  childish  mirth  and  prattle  kept  her 
heart  young  and  fresh. 

The  little  orphans,  Mary  and  Mabel  (for 
so  their  mother  had  named  them,  though 
they  called  the  little  one  May,  to  distinguish 
her  from  Aunt  Mabel),  grew  up  into  two 
sweet  little  girls,  so  much  alike  in  size  that 
strangers  often  thought  they  were  twins; 
and  never  had  the  roof  of  the  red  house 
rang  to  merrier  songs  and  shouts  than  now, 
when  Tom  and  Charlie  joined  their  plays; 
and  at  night,  when  tired  of  play,  and  gentle 
and  loving  as  two  little  doves,  the  little  girls 
knelt  down  by  their  trundle-bed  to  say  their 
■'  good-night  prayers  to  God,"  as  May  called 
it,  the  hearts  of  both  aunt  and  grandmother 
rejoiced  over  them  greatly. 

"What  a  blessing  these  children  have 
been  to  us!"  they  often  said  to  each  other. 
"How  could  we  have  lived  without  them?" 

27* 


318  .       HOME. 

Uncle  Roger  gathered  in  the  crops,  and 
looked  after  the  out-door  work;  and  within 
and  without  things  went  on  more  smoothly 
and  more  after  the  old  way  than  they  could 
have  believed  possible.  Of  course,  there 
was  a  great  anxiety  always  lying  at  the 
bottom  of  their  hearts,  but  their  faith  in 
God  kept  it  from  degenerating  into  a  wor- 
rying, fretful  state  of  mind ;  and  so  they 
might  be  said  to  be  quite  cheerful,  patiently 
waiting  for  whatever  the  future  was  des- 
tined to  bring. 

Just  before  the  battle  of  Fredericksburg, 
they  received  a  letter  from  Leonard,  from 
which  we  make  the  following  extract: — 

' '  Who  do  you  think  was  brought  in  by  one 
of  our  pickets  last  night?  A  deserter  from 
the  rebels, — and  a  more  haggard,  dirty- 
looking  fellow  we  do  not  often  see.  He  was 
brought  to  my  tent ;  but,  as  I  was  busy  look- 
ino-  over  some  accounts,  I  took  no  notice  at 
first,  till,  hearing  some  one  say,  'He's  'most 
gone:  he's  well-nigh  starved  to  death,'  I 
ordered  some  food  given  to  him,  and,  seeing 


A    SURPRISE.  319 

how  miserably  ill  he  looked,  I  had  some 
tea  taken  from  my  own  stores,  some  of 
that  you  sent  me, — a  thousand  thanks  for 
it, — and  told  them  to  make  him  a  good 
strong  cup,  and  returned  to  my  writing 
again.  This  revived  the  poor  fellow  won- 
derfully. It  was  the  first  tea  and  sugar  he 
had  seen  for  six  months,  as  I  afterwards 
heard  him  say.  He  was  soon  able  to  eat 
some  toast  that  Jim  Baker  had  fixed  up  for 
him.  Jim  makes  a  famous  cook,  I  assure 
you,  and  contrives  all  kinds  of  savoury 
messes  out  of  nothing.  Something  in  the 
man's  voice,  as  he  spoke,  struck  me,  and  I 
looked  at  him  closer,  but  could  discover 
nothing  familiar  in  the  grimy  face  covered 
by  a  monstrous  beard.  '  Why,  you  don't 
know  me!'  he  exclaimed;  'but  I  knew  you 
as  quick  as  I  set  my  eyes  on  you,  Lenny 
Roberts, — or  Captain  Roberts,  as  I  see  they 
call  you  now.  How  are  they  all  at  the  old 
red  house?  And  the  Woodlee  boys, — I  see 
lots  of  'em  are  here.  Can't  make  me  out  ? 
It's  because  I've  got  these  clothes  on!' 


320  A    SURPRISE. 

"'It  can't  be  John  Hall!'  I  exclaimed. 
'Yes,  John  Hall,  at  your  service,  captain,' 
he  answered,  with  a  loud  laugh.  I  knew 
he  went  South  soon  after  leaving  Woodlee, 
and  commenced  practising  law  in  Mobile ; 
but  I  had  heard  nothing  of  him  for  several 
years.  'Yes,  I  fight  under  the  stars  and 
bars,'  he  cried,  in  a  kind  of  mocking,  ex- 
cited way ;  '  and  you  stick  to  the  old  flag 
yet.  Ha  !  I  guess  you  remember  how  the 
old  captain  used  to  get  it  out  Fourth  of 
Julys  and  tell  the  boys  to  be  loyal  to  it, 
and  all  that  stuff?' 

"I  didn't  much  fancy  such  a  disrespect- 
ful style  of  talk,  and  said,  half  angrily, 
Well,  John,  it  would  have  been  better 
for  you  if  you  had  followed  his  advice, 
I'm  thinking.'  'May-be  'twould,'  he  said, 
in  the  same  reckless  way ;  '  but,  you  see, 
a  body  has  to  do  as  other  folks  do.  When 
I  first  went  South  I  stood  up  for  the  Yan- 
kees whenever  anybody  run  'em  down; 
but,  you  see,  a  fellow  couldn't  get  along 
there  in  that  way.  Mobile  is  a  famous 
place  for  a  fellow  to  get  on,  if  he  keeps  his 


"  '  It  ?an't  be  John  Hall !'  I  exclaimed. "  p.  320. 


A    PRISONER    OF    WAR.  321 

mouth  shut.  I  got  into  a  capital  practice 
there,  and  by-and-by  I  married  a  rich  girl. 
So,  you  see,  I  was  getting  on  swimmingly, 
till  this  infernal  war  broke  out.  I  had 
to  go  with  the  South,  of  course,  if  I 
stayed  there,  and  I  couldn't  get  away 
with  my  property  lying  in  "live  stock," 
you  know.  I  held  off  from  fighting,  though, 
as  long  as  I  could;  but  I  had  to  enlist  to 
save  myself  from  something  worse.  I've 
fought  in  half  a  dozen  battles,  but  was 
never  hurt  till  I  got  shot  in  the  leg  the 
other  day.  I  was  left  behind,  and  have 
been  lying  round  here  these  ten  days,  so 
lame  I  could  scarcely  crawl,  and  half 
starved  besides  :  so  I  crept  up  towards  the 
pickets  to-night,  hoping  to  find  something 
here  to  eat,  and  who  should  I  come  on  pat 
but  a  Connecticut  regiment !  and,  thinks  I, 
"I'll  show  myself,  and  see  what  they'll  say 
to  an  old  friend.  I  can't  do  any  worse  than 
lie  here  and  starve,  any  way."  So  the 
fellow  I  hailed  brought  me  in  here,  right 
among  old  friends,  as  'twere.' 


322  POOR    JOHN. 

"  In  a  little  while  he  begged  for  whiskey ; 
but,  as  none  of  our  boys  keep  that,  he  was 
obliged  to  content  himself  with  tea.  He 
finally  fell  into  a  doze,  and  slept  all  night. 
This  morning  he  was  quite  ill,  and  seemed 
in  a  high  fever ;  and  I  have  sent  him  to  the 
hospital,  and  shall  see  that  he  is  well  cared 
for.  I  must  give  him  up  to  my  superior 
officer  when  he  gets  well,  if  he  ever  does. 
Poor  John !  he  was  always  ambitious  and 
had  talent,  but  I  fear  he  was  never  willing 
to  work  and  earn  reputation  and  success; 
and  he  was  too  anxious  to  be  popular,  to 
stand  up  very  staunchly  for  the  right.  I 
fear  he  has  become  dissipated ;  but  it  may 
be  only  the  effects  of  illness  and  exposure. 
His  style  of  talk  was  exceedingly  repul- 
sive ;  but  I  feel  kindly  towards  him  for  old 
acquaintance'  sake.  How  little  we  thought 
of  meeting  thus,  when  we  went  to  school 
together  and  laid  our  plans  for  future  life ! 
It  would  have  broken  his  parents'  hearts  to 
know  he  was  in  the  rebel  army ;  but  they 
are  both  gone  now.     I  sometimes  think 


ARMY    LETTER.  323 

people  are  spared  a  great  deal  by  dying, 
now-a-days." 

The  same  mail  brought  a  letter  from 
Sydney,  telling  them  that  his  regiment  had 
been  ordered  to  join  a  division  in  General 
Burnside's  army,  and  that  a  decisive  battle 
was  no  doubt  to  be  fought  soon.  "We  are 
ready  for  it,"  he  said,  "and  I  think  our 
boys  will  all  do  their  best.  Of  course,  it 
must  bring  death  to  thousands  of  us ;  and 
I  need  not  say,  dear  mother,  my  heart 
turns  more  warmly  to  you  to-night  for  this 
certainty.  If  I  fall,  I  shall  fall  doing  my 
duty,  and  I  believe  Christ  will  take  me 
to  himself;  not  for  any  thing  good  in  me, 
but  because  I  have  put  my  trust  in  him, 
and  he  will  never  break  his  promise  to 
save  all  who  have  done  that.  I  never  felt 
more  convinced  that  I  did  right  in  coming ; 
and  I  hope  I  shall  do  my  duty  bravely  to 
the  last.  We  shall  soon  meet,  here,  or  on 
the  other  side,  as  God  wills.  God  bless 
you  all!" 


n . 


24       BATTLE    OF    FREDERICKSBURG. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

BATTLE    OF    FREDERICKSBURG. 

The  battle  which  followed  was  one  most 
disastrous  to  the  North,  and  which  brought 
into  thousands  of  homes  bitter  sorrow  and 
lamentation.  But  in  no  battle  of  the  war 
did  the  Northern  troops  show  more  heroic 
bravery.  Again  and  again  were  they 
brought  up  to  face  the  intrenched  foe,  and 
were  mowed  down  like  grass.  Again  and 
again  they  rallied  to  the  charge,  but  all  in 
vain ;  and,  amid  a  carnage  unrivalled  even 
in  this  bloody  war,  they  were  compelled  to 
fall  back,  and  retreat  across  the  Rappa- 
hannock. 

It  was  a  dark,  stormy  night  when  the  news 
of  the  battle  reached  the  red  house,  but 
Susan  went  over,  as  usual,  to  read  the  paper 
aloud  to  her  mother  and  Mabel.     The  first 


ANXIETY.  325 

accounts  left  it  uncertain  what  the  result 
would  be,  but  showed  that  it  had  been  a 
fiercely-fought  battle,  and  that  the  two 
regiments  to  which  Leonard  and  Sydney 
belonged  were  both  engaged.  Then  came 
the  long,  weary  waiting,  the  agony  of  sus- 
pense :  how  fearful,  none  can  ever  know 
but  such  as  have  experienced  it.  Two  days 
and  nights  dragged  wearily  away,  every 
hour  seeming  like  a  month.  With  trem- 
bling hands  they  opened  each  day's  paper, 
and  their  hearts  stood  still  as  they  looked 
over  the  long  lists  of  killed  and  wounded ; 
and  they  breathed  a  long  sigh  of  relief 
when  the  end  was  reached  and  the  name 
not  there.  Those  were  hours — that  was 
agony — harder  to  bear  than  any  thing 
which  had  gone  before.  The  first  news  of 
the  Woodlee  boys  came  through  a  telegram 
from  Leonard.  He  was  unhurt ;  but  three 
of  his  company  were  killed,  others  wounded, 
but  not  severely.  Sydney  was  among  the 
missing, — whether  killed,  wounded,  or  a 
prisoner,  it  was  impossible  to  say.    A  joy- 

28 


326  SAD    NEWS. 

fill  "Thank  God!"  escaped  from  Susans 
lips  when  she  found  Leonard  was  safe ;  but 
she  instantly  reproached  herself  when  she 
remembered  that  Sydney  might  be  slain, 
and  that  two  other  wives  in  the  neighbour- 
hood were  widows  if  she  were  not. 

Three  days  after,  came  another  tele- 
gram : — 

"Sydney  went  from  earth  to  heaven  this 
morning  at  nine  o  clock.  He  died  in  my 
arms,  without  a  groan.'1 

The  long  suspense  was  ended  now ;  cer- 
tainty had  taken  the  place  of  dread.  They 
knew  now  that  one  of  their  beloved  ones 
could  never  come  to  them  again.  It  was 
a  heavy  blow,  especially  to  the  mother  ; 
and  it  was  of  her,  not  of  themselves,  that 
both  the  good  daughters  first  thought. 
They  feared  she  would  sink  under  it;  but, 
instead  of  this,  she  bore  it  very  bravely, 
and  soon  became  calm  and  peaceful,  and 
able  to  look  at  all  that  was  consoling  in 
the  circumstances. 

"Dear  boy  !"  she  said,  tenderly,  "I  know 


RESIGNATION.  327 

he  is  in  heaven ;  I  can't  have  a  doubt  of 
that :  he  is  where  no  sorrow  nor  pain  can 
ever  reach  him  more." 

"Yes,  mother;  and,  if  he  could  speak  to 
us  from  there,  it  would  be  to  tell  us  not 
to  shed  a  single  tear  for  him,"  said  Mabel, 
though  her  tears  were  flowing  profusely 
as  she  spoke. 

41  It  is  such  a  comfort  to  know  Leonard 
was  with  him,"  said  the  mother.  "  He 
might  have  been  left  on  the  field,  where 
we  never  could  hear  how  he  died  or  how 
much  he  suffered.  That  w  mid  have  been 
terrible." 

"Sydney  was  always  ?  .  anxious  to  do 
good  in  some  way,"  said  Mabel;  "and 
now  he  has  been  allowed  to  lay  down  his 
life  for  his  country.  I  know  it  was  a  death 
he  would  have  preferred  to  any  other." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  mother,  "  as  grand- 
father used  often  to  say,  '  God  never  makes 
a  mistake.'  This  mode  of  dying  was  the 
best  mode,  this  time  the  best  time.  I 
haven't  a  doubt  of  it.     My  children  were 


328  flir    DISASTl  ft. 

consecrated  to  God  from  their  birth;  and 
they  are  his,  rather  than  mine,  to  dispose 
of  as  he  chooses.  He  has  done  what 
seemeth  good  unto  him,  and  I  can  say, 
'Blessed  be  His  name.'  ' 

So,  as  the  three  sat  around  the  fire  that 
stormy  night,  though  their  tears  were 
flowing,  a  sweet  spirit  of  resignation,  and 
even  of  thankfulness,  pervaded  the  group. 
So  doth  God  comfort  his  own  in  all  time 
of  tribulation. 

A  heavier  gloom  rested  on  their  spirits 
when  they  thought  of  the  country;  for  no 
personal  loss  could  make  their  patriotic 
hearts  insensible  to  the  public  calamity, 
and  this  reverse  was  most  disheartening. 
Again  Susan  asked,  "  Has  God  forgotten 
to  be  gracious  to  us?  Does  he  intend  the 
destruction  and  ruin  of  our  nation  ?',  And 
again  she  fell  back  on  the  great,  consoling 
truth  that  God  was  overruling  all  things, 
and  that  the  great  principles  of  right  and 
freedom  were  forever  safe  in  his  keeping, 


TRUST.  329 

however  to  a  weak,  finite  vision  they 
might  seem  imperilled. 

"  God  is  dealing  with  the  nation  as  he 
deals  with  individuals,"  said  Mrs.  Roberts ; 
11  chastising  us  till  we  are  made  willing  to 
forsake  our  sins  and  turn  to  him.  But, 
as  Leonard  says,  we  must  be  as  willing  to 
trust  our  country  in  God's  hands,  as  to 
trust  ourselves." 

"Sydney  knows  now  how  things  look 
in  the  light  of  heaven,"  said  Susan. 

"Yes,  and  I  can't  help  thinking  grand- 
father would  be  the  first  to  meet  and  wel- 
come him  there,"  said  Mabel,  "and  to 
rejoice  that  he  died  for  his  country." 

"  It  would  seem  so,  judging  from  our 
present  ideas,"  said  Mrs.  Roberts;  "but 
we  know  so  little  of  heaven  that  we  can- 
not tell  how  things  are  there.  We  only 
know  what  the  Bible  tells  us, — that  it 
is  a  land  of  holiness,  where  nothing  en- 
tereth  in  that  defileth,  and  a  land  where 
'there  shall  be  no  more  death,  neither 
sorrow  nor  crying,  neither  shall  there  be 

28* 


330 


ARMY  LETTERS. 


any  more  pain  ;  for  the  former  things  are 
passed  away.'  " 

A  sweet,  calm,  heavenly  brightness 
rested  on  the  mother's  face  as  she  repeated 
the  beautiful  words  of  the  Apocalypse  ; 
and  both  daughters  knew  that  in  her  soul 
there  was  a  hidden  longing  to  go  forth  to 
that  promised  land,  to  be  forever  with 'the 
Lord.  A  new  link  to  fasten  her  soul  to 
heaven  had  been  forged  now  ;  and,  as  she 
lay  awake  hour  after  hour  that  night,  hear- 
ing the  storm  beat  on  the  roof  of  the  old 
red  house,  and  thinking  of  her  darling  boy 
as  a  radiant  spirit  before  the  throne  of 
God,  her  heart  swelled  with  an  unutter- 
able emotion  of  gratitude  to  the  Redeemer. 
With  Mary  of  old,  she  could  say,  "My 
soul  doth  magnify  the  Lord,  and  my  spirit 
hath  rejoiced  in  God  my  Saviour." 

In  a  few  days,  letters  were  received 
from  Leonard,  and  also  from  the  captain 
of  Sydney's  company  and  the  chaplain  of 
his  regiment,  each  telling  the  bereaved 
mother  of  his  bravery  and  nobleness,  and 


ARMY    LETTERS.  331 

of  his  labours  in  the  camp  and  hospital. 
These  tributes  to  his  memory  were  the 
sweetest  consolation  the  mother  could  have ; 
and  she  felt  that  nothing  but  true  worth 
could  have  won  such  appreciation  and  love 
as  these  letters  showed. 

11  You  may  rest  assured,  dear  madam," 
wrote  the  chaplain,  "  that  your  son,  even 
in  a  short  life,  did  much  for  his  Master. 
More  than  one  soul  in  this  camp  owed  its 
faith  in  Christ  to  his  exhortations  and 
prayers;  and  none  of  our  men  will  ever 
forget  his  earnest  warnings  and  entreaties." 
We  give  Leonard's  letter  in  full : — 
"You  have  before  this  heard,  dear 
mother,  that  our  beloved  Sydney  has  gone : 
I  know  how  it  will  grieve  you  ;  but,  if 
you  could  have  been  with  him  at  the  last, 
you  would  have  been  comforted,  as  I  was. 
I  saw  him  two  days  before  we  crossed  the 
river :  he  was  in  fine  spirits,  and  said  he 
had  just  written  home.  I  never  saw  him 
looking  in  better  health  or  handsomer. 
He  was  in  a  different  division  from  mine, 


332  ARMY    LETTERS. 

and  after  the  battle  it  was  a  good  while 
before  I  could  get  the  least  trace  of  him 
in  the  terrible  confusion,  and  I  had  pretty 
much  concluded  he  had  been  taken  pri- 
soner, when  word  was  brought  me  that 
he  was  badly  wounded  and  wanted  me  to 
Come  to  him.  He  was  shot  through  the 
left  shoulder  and  side  early  in  the  action, 
and  was  carried  to  the  rear  and  afterwards 
brought  off  among  the  other  wounded. 
When  I  reached  him,  he  was  lying  in  an 
officer's  tent,  and  had  been  kindly  cared 

for.    Surgeon  K ,  who  loved  him  like  a 

brother,  had  been  with  him;  but  the  ball 
could  not  be  extracted :  he  was  suffering  a 
good  deal  then,  though  much  less  than  at 
first.  It  was  about  nine  in  the  evening 
wThen  I  got  to  him.  He  knew  me,  and 
said,  at  once,  '  This  cannot  last  long, 
Leonard :  I  want  to  be  patient  while  it 
does.'  A  heavy  opiate  was  beginning  to 
operate,  and  in  about  half  an  hour  he 
sank  into  a  sleep,  troubled  at  first,  but 
gradually  growing  deeper,  till  he   lay  as 


THE    LAST    SCENE. 

calm  and  quiet  as  an  infant.  A  little  after 
midnight  lie  woke  up,  and  had  one  severe 
spasm  of  pain,  and  then  slept  again.  About 
four  in  the  morning  he  woke,  free  from  pain, 
but  so  very  weak  he  could  not  speak.  I 
gave  him  wine,  which  revived  him ;  and  he 
talked  at  intervals  both  to  me  and  to  the 
surgeon,  who  looked  in  upon  him  occa- 
sionally, but  could  do  nothing  for  him. 
1  He  will  not  stand  it  many  hours,'  he 
whispered  to  me.  Sydney  heard  him,  and 
said,  '  Then  rest  and  heaven  !  I'm  not 
afraid,  you  know,'  he  added,  looking  up 
pleasantly  into  my  face,  'not  at  all  afraid.' 
I  prayed  with  him ;  when  I  ceased,  he  said, 
*  Oh,  how  good  prayer  is  !'  After  a  few 
minutes  he  said,  in  a  whisper,  '  Sing ;  sing 
my  hymn.'  At  first  I  thought  it  would  be 
impossible  to  utter  a  note ;  but  he  whis- 
pered again,  as  if  he  thought  I  was  hesi- 
tating which  hymn  to  sing,  '  How  sweet 
the  name  of  Jesus  sounds!'  and  I  began 
and  sang  the  whole  hymn  through, — that 


334  THE    LAST    CONFLICT. 

hymn  we  have  all  sung  together  so  many 
times. 

"As  I  went  on,  though  his  eyes  were 
closed,  the  sweetest  expression  stole  over 
his  face, — an  expression  of  perfect  peace 
and  trust.  'Thank  you.  How  sweet!'  he 
whispered.  I  repeated  several  passages  of 
Scripture,  and  more  than  once  he  took  up 
the  words  and  finished  the  verse  himself. 
Opening  his  eyes  at  one  time,  he  said,  '  Tell 
mother — '  but  he  stopped,  and  seemed  so 
drowsy  that  I  did  not  like  to  rouse  him. 
After  sleeping  a  few  minutes,  he  said,  '  If 
mother  only  knew  how  comfortable  I  am 
here,  she  wouldn't  grieve.  Don't  let  her 
grieve,'  he  added,  in  a  most  affectionate  tone. 
'Tell  her  how  easy  I  am, — oh,  so  easy!' 
He  did  not  speak  again  for  two  hours ;  but 
about  sunrise  he  roused,  and,  as  I  turned 
him  in  the  bed,  he  asked,  'Is  it  morning?' 
'Yes,'  I  said,  'the  sun  is  just  rising.'  He 
smiled,  and  said, '  I  thought  I  was  in  my  own 
bed  at  home;  but,'  (looking  round  him,) 
'how  different  it  is!'     Then,  apparently 


THE    LAST    CONFLICT.  335 

remembering  the  battle  and  our  retreat, 
he  said,  '  God  will  bring  it  all  right.'  'Yes/ 
I  replied,  'God  loves  our  country  still.' 
'Yes,  yes;  oh,  yes!'  he  answered,  with 
much  animation.  After  taking  more  wine, 
he  lay  back  and  said,  with  a  sweet  smile, 
'I  don't  feel  a  pain;  not  one,  tell  mother 
and  Mabel.  They  will  think  it  is  hard  to 
die  here ;  but  it  isn't.  Christ  is  here,  and 
that  is  enough.  Yes,  tell  them,'  he  added, 
a  moment  after,  'that  I  had  all  I  wanted.' 
There  was  a  good  deal  of  noise  outside, 
and  once  it  startled  him,  and  he  looked  up 
as  if  disturbed ;  but  in  a  moment  he  smiled, 
and  said, '  The  music  of  heaven, — the  music 
of  heaven!' 

' '  How  sweet  that  will  be ! '  I  said.  '  Yes, 
we  shall  all  sing  there,  tell  Susan,'  remem- 
bering, I  suppose,  her  regret  that  she  could 
not  join  us  here  in  singing.  'Tell  them 
Christ  stands  close  beside  me.  He  is  the 
resurrection  and  the  life :  there  is  no  death !' 
These  were  his  last  words.  He  moved  his 
head  slightly,  and  a  convulsion  passed  over 


336  THE    LAST    CONFLICT. 

his  frame.  Then  there  was  a  quick,  la- 
boured breathing  for  an  hour  or  more,  which 
gradually  became  shorter  and  fainter,  and 
then  ceased, — and  your  dear  Sydney  was 
with  Christ  in  glory.  'There  is  no  death  f 
Oh,  no,  no  death  for  him,  nor  for  any  who 
love  Christ,  who  is  the  resurrection  and  the 
life !  As  I  closed  his  eyes,  a  serene  smile 
rested  on  the  lips,  as  if  he  were  just  about 
to  speak  some  pleasant  thought.  He  lies 
under  an  oak-tree,  and  a  board,  with  his 
name  cut  on  it,  marks  the  place.  Here, 
on  the  soil  of  old  Virginia,  let  your  brave 
young  soldier  sleep!  Ko  purer  or  nobler 
spirit  ever  went  up  from  her  soil  to  God; 
and,  among  the  thousands  who  have  laid 
down  their  lives  for  their  country,  not  one 
has  done  it  from  a  nobler  or  higher  motive 
than  he.  The  very  last  words  he  said 
when  we  parted  before  the  battle  were, 
5 Leonard,  we  are  glad  we  came!'  The 
surgeon  told  me  since  his  death  that  when 
he  first  went  to  him  he  said,  '  You  can't 
do  any  thing  for  me,  doctor :   don't  waste 


TEUE    HEROISM.  337 

time  on  me,  when  there  are  hundreds  of 
poor  fellows  who  want  you  so  much  more.' 
Yes,  he  was  worthy  of  his  name.  Like 
Sydney  of  old,  he  would  have  taken  the 
water  from  his  own  mouth  to  give  to  an- 
other dying  soldier.  You  have  a  right  to 
be  proud  of  him,  mother,  and  to  rejoice  in 
him,  as  one  of  a  glorious  company  who, 

'  For  God,  for  Truth,  for  Freedom's  sake, 
Content  the  bitter  cup  to  take, 
Have  silently,  in  fearless  faith, 
Bow'd  down  their  noble  souls  to  death,' 

and  whose  blood  shall  not  be  spilt  in  vain. 
No,  not  in  vain ;  for  it  shall  surely  buy  for 
all  coming  generations  untold  blessings 
worthy  of  such  a  costly  sacrifice.  And 
the  God  of  all  comfort  will  draw  nigh  to 
you,  dear  mother,  and  comfort  you.  So 
certain  am  I  of  this,  that  I  do  not  try  to 
write  consoling  words,  but  only  commit 
you  to  Him  in  faith.  He  will  speak  peace 
to  your  soul,  and  enable  you  to  think  less 
of  your  own  sorrow  than  of  the  exceeding 
weight  of  glory  of  the  saints  above." 

29 


338  A    SURPRISE. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

A    SURPRISE. 

In  the  red  house,  as  in  thousands  of 
homes  East  and  West  during  that  memo- 
rable season,  there  were  hearts  that  in  the 
midst  of  desolation  and  bereavement  called 
fervently  on  God.  It  would  be  far  from 
true  to  say  that  in  every  family  which  had 
lost  one  of  its  members  in  the  war,  there 
was  the  solace  of  Christian  faith  and  conso- 
lation ;  but  into  very  many  families  Christ 
did  come  to  strengthen  and  heal  bleeding 
hearts.  And,  while  there  were  sadness 
and  tears  and  tender  memories  in  such 
homes,  there  were  no  murmurs,  no  regrets 
at  having  given  too  much  to  the  country ; 
for  in  these  homes  there  grew  up  a  still 
stronger  faith  in  God's  overruling  provi- 
dence, and  in  the  final  success  of  the  prin- 


JOY   IN   SORROW.  339 

ciples  for  which  our  people  were  so  man- 
fully contending. 

It  was  beautiful  to  see  how  calmly  Mrs. 
Eoberts  could  speak  of  all  her  dear  son  had 
been  to  her,  and  look  at  all  the  old  keep- 
sakes left  behind, — the  memorials  of  his 
school  and  college  days.  It  was  not  sto- 
icism nor  indifference,  but  a  true,  living 
faith  in  God  and  in  his  promise  to  raise 
the  dead,  which  gave  her  this  serenity. 
She  never  thought  of  Sydney  as  dead,  but 
always  as  living  a  fuller  and  richer  life 
than  ever  before, — never  as  under  the  sod 
in  that  far-off  Virginian  grave,  but  as  in  the 
city  of  the  living  God,  among  "the  innu- 
merable company  of  angels,  and  the  general 
assembly  and  church  of  the  first-born  which 
are  written  in  heaven."  Of  course,  her 
heart  often  ached  with  an  inexpressible 
longing  to  see  his  face  once  more,  and  to 
fold  him  to  her  heart;  but  the  pang,  though 
sharp,  was  short,  and  was  soon  lost  in  un- 
selfish joy  as  she  thought  of  his  great  gain. 

Neighbours  who  came  to  see  her,  with 


340  JOY    IN    SORROW. 

sad  faces  and  words  of  tearful  condolence, 
were  astonished  to  find  her  face  beaming 
with  an  inward  peace  and  joy.  Some  won- 
dered, and  said,  "How  strange,  not  to  fee) 
her  son's  death  more  I"  and  their  own  faces 
grew  still  more  sombre  and  gloomy.  "But 
those  wrho  knew  her  best  knew  the  secret 
of  her  peace,  and  recognized  it  as  the  gift 
of  God  to  a  soul  which  had  put  its  trust  in 
him. 

One  day  an  old  lady  said  to  her,  "Don't 
you  feel  sorry  now  that  you  let  both  your 
boys  go  to  the  war?" 

She  was  almost  startled  at  the  energy 
with  which  the  bereaved  mother  replied, 
"Sorry  they  have  done  all  they  could  to 
save  their  country  from  dissolution !  Sorry 
they  are  not  traitors,  nor  cowards,  nor  selfish 
lovers  of  their  own  ease !  Sorry  that  they 
have  bravely  stood  up  to  protect  the  flag 
of  the  country  that  gave  them  birth,  from 
those  who  would  insult  and  degrade  it ! 
No,  indeed.     I  do  not  think  I  could  bear 


GOOD    HOPE.  341 

the  defeats  we  have  suffered,  if  I  did  not  feel 
that  I  had  given  all  I  could  to  avert  them. 
With  a  disgraced  and  divided  country,  how 
could  I  sit  down  with  my  sons  around  me 
and  enjoy  life?  No!  with  that  ruined, 
nothing  else  would  be  worth  having, — 
nothing  on  earth !  I  pray  God  that  if  such 
is  to  be  its  end,  he  willi>e  pleased  to  take 
me  hence  before  it  is  accomplished!" 

Leonard  wrote  every  week,  with  less 
buoyancy  of  spirit  than  at  first,  yet  he 
never  permitted  himself  to  doubt  of  the 
final  result  of  the  great  conflict,  again 
and  again  saying,  "No,  Grod  isn't,  cant  be, 
on  the  side  of  treachery  and  oppression!" 
As  furloughs  were  freely  granted,  he  thought 
he  might  obtain  one  during  the  winter;  but, 
having  been  recently  raised  to  the  rank  of 
major,  he  could  not  at  once  release  himself 
from  duty,  and  dared  not  say  when  he 
should  be  willing  to  apply  for  leave  of 
absence. 

The  very  suggestion  that  he  might  come 
home  filled  his  wife's  heart  with  joy  ;  but 

29* 


342  A    SLEIGH-RIDE. 

she  would  not  allow  herself  to  expect  him ; 
for  a  disappointment  would  be  so  very 
bitter. 

One  day  in  March,  when  the  snow  was 
melting  from  the  roofs  and  the  sugar- 
makers  were  just  beginning  to  set  their 
tubs  under  the  maple-trees  on  the  hill  east 
of  the  red  house,  Uncle  Roger  took  Susan 
and  all  the  children  for  a  day's  visit  to 
Grandmother  Lee.  The  children  were  so 
excited  they  could  hardly  be  kept  quiet 
till  they  were  packed  into  the  sleigh. 
They  had  a  charming  ride  of  four  miles, 
for  Mrs.  Lee  lived  in  the  opposite  part  of 
the  town ;  and  the  glittering  crust,  the 
merry  bells  and  the  children's  mirth  made 
Susan  almost  as  gleeful  as  the  children 
themselves.  She  looked  up  to  the  cloud- 
less sky,  now  taking  on  a  softer  tint  of 
blue,  and  at  the  trees,  brilliant  with  frost 
and  ice,  and  said  to  herself,  "  This  is  a 
good  world,  after  all,  though  there  is  so 
much  sin  and  suffering  in  it."  For  a  few 
days  she  had  felt  a  little  anxious  at  not 


JOYFUL    VISIT.  348 

having  received  her  usual  letter  from  her 
husband;  but  her  fears  passed  off  under 
those  bright  out-of-door  influences,  and 
she  felt  quite  sure  she  should  find  a  letter 
in  the  office  when  she  came  back  at  night. 
Grandmother  Lee's  welcome  was  as 
hearty  as  the  excited  little  folks  could 
ask.  Her  stores  of  turn-overs,  cookies 
and  sugar  gingerbread  were  as  abundant, 
her  pictures  and  toys  kept  tied  up  in  a 
dark  corner  of  her  bedroom-closet  were  as 
funny  and  delightful  as  ever;  and  the  dinner 
of  stewed  chicken,  with  apple-dumpling 
for  dessert, — oh,  where  was  such  a  dinner 
ever  eaten, — where  but  at  dear,  good 
Grandmother  Lee's?  It  was  a  day  of 
rare  enjoyment  to  them  all;  and,  when 
they  were  bundled  up  in  hoods  and  cloaks 
and  comforters  for  the  ride  home,  and 
grandmother  had  kissed  each  rosy  little 
face  and  said  they  had  been  the  best  of 
children,  they  set  off  in  great  glee,  more 
quiet  than  in  the  morning,  but  still  very 
bright  and  happy. 


344  A    SURPRISE. 

No  letter  from  the  post-office!  How 
strange  it  was !  Could  it  be  that  a  furlough 
had  been  given  him  and  he  was  on  his  way 
home  ?  Susan  thought,  in  her  heart,  what 
if  he  were  sick  in  the  hospital,  or  even 
then  lying  lifeless  on  some  little  cot?  The 
sun  had  gone,  the  air  was  chilly,  the  long 
gray  shadows  were  creeping  over  the  fields ; 
and,  somehow,  the  world  seemed  far  less 
joyful  and  good  than  it  did  when  she  passed 
over  that  same  road  in  the  morning  light.  A 
presentiment  of  coming  evil  rested  on  her 
soul :  had  God  sent  it  to  prepare  her  for 
some  terrible  intelligence  ?  Involuntarily 
she  clasped  Charlie  closer  to  her  breast, 
with  a  vague  fear  that  he  was  fatherless , 
and  sent  up  a  prayer  that  she  might  be 
prepared  for  whatever  tidings  awaited 
her.  She  was  calmer,  and  prepared,  she 
thought,  to  bear  any  thing ;  but  when,  as 
she  stepped  out  of  the  sleigh  over  the 
threshold  of  her  own  door,  she  was  clasped 
in  the  arms  of  her  husband,  she  shrieked, 
and  almost  fainted.     No,  she  was  not  pre- 


THE    JOYFUL    KETUKN.  345 

pared  for  that ;  and  Leonard  almost  blamed 
himself  for  not  being  more  considerate, 
when  she  gave  way  to  a  flood  of  tears. 
But  that  was  soon  over,  and  she  was  con- 
scious of  the  certainty  of  having  her  be- 
loved husband  once  more  at  home,  arid  of 
all  the  delight  involved  in  it. 

What  exclamations  of  surprise  and  joy 
there  were  in  the  red  house  that  night; 
what  smiles  and  tears  and  tender  memo- 
ries; what  narratives  of  strange  adven- 
tures and  wonderful  escapes ;  what  tributes 
of  gratitude  and  thanksgiving ;  what  peti- 
tions for  the  Lord's  blessing  on  the  coun- 
try and  its  rulers,  and  what  sweet  com- 
munion of  heart  with  heart,  as,  later,  they 
sat  together,  the  true  husband  and  the 
faithful  wife,  by  their  own  home  fireside,  it 
were  useless  to  try  to  tell.  Verily,  if  war 
has  its  hours  of  woe  and  horror,  it  has  also 
its  hours  of  rare  delight.  Without  the 
pain  and  the  agony  they  had  endured, 
there    could    never   have   come  a  joy   so 


346  THE    MAJOR    AT    HOME. 

thrilling,  so  rich  and  full,  as  they  ex- 
perienced now. 

The  furlough  was  for  twenty  days,  and 
several  of  these  must  be  consumed  in 
coming  and  returning.  It  really  seemed 
as  if  his  family  saw  very  little  of  "  the 
major,"  as  he  was  called;  for  the  neigh- 
bours crowded  around  him  eager  for  infor- 
mation, as  all  of  them,  or  nearly  all,  had 
some  friend  in  Virginia,  either  in  the  army 
or  in  the  grave.  To  their  inquiries  Leonard 
listened  patiently ;  and  he  went  more  than 
once  to  see  the  widows  of  the  two  brave 
soldiers  who  had  fallen  in  the  same  battle 
with  Sydney,  and  whom  he  had  seen  care- 
fully buried  by  his  side.  To  these  he  gave 
words  of  cheer  and  hope,  and  commended 
them  in  prayer  to  the  compassion  and 
tender  mercy  of  their  God  and  Saviour. 

Leonard  wras  a  good  deal  changed  in 
person,  and  somewhat  in  manner ;  but  he 
was  the  same  quiet,  thoughtful  man  -as 
formerly,  taking  calm  and  sensible  views 
of  things.     He  was  still  hopeful  as  to  the 


THE    MAJOR    AT    HOMP:.  347 

final  result  of  the  war,  though  not  enthu- 
siastic as  to  the  immediate  success  of  our 
arms. 

"I  fear  it  may  be  a  long  war,"  he  said, 
one  evening,  as  he  sat  conversing  with 
several  neighbours,  among  whom  was  his 
old  friend  Judge  Bailey.  It  was  a  dark 
hour  then.  With  the  enemy  successful  in 
the  field,  and  foreign  nations  unkindly 
disposed,  or  about,  as  many  feared,  to  re- 
cognize the  Confederacy,  and  the  home- 
elections  showing  divisions  among  our- 
selves, there  was  cause  enough  for  despond- 
ency and  doubt ;  and  in  all  our  villages 
people  were  saying,  just  as  one  of  the 
group  remarked  in  reply  to  Leonard,  "Yes, 
and  I  doubt  if  we  shall  keep  our  country 
together,  after  all.  Here  we  are,  at  the 
end  of  two  years,  just  as  far  as  ever  from 
putting  down  the  rebellion ;  and  what 
thousands  of  lives  have  been  sacrificed, — 
yes,  sacrificed  in  vain,  I  fear!  I  begin  to 
think  God  means  to  destroy  us  for  our 
wickedness." 


348  THE    MAJOR    AT    HOME. 

"Possibly  he  does,"  answered  Leonard. 
11  We  can't  know  God's  plans.  We  only 
know  we  must  do  our  duty,  and  keep  alive 
our  faith  in  him.  For  myself,  I  don't  by 
any  means  give  up  hope  of  our  final 
success.  We  are  strong  still  in  men 
and  resources  of  all  kinds,  but  infinitely 
stronger  in  the  justice  of  our  cause.  For 
one,  I 'have  no  idea  that  injustice  and 
wrong  are  going  to  prevail.  We  may 
have  even  wTorse  reverses  than  we  have 
experienced  yet;  but  I  believe  we  shall 
yet  see  our  Union  firmer  and  stronger 
than  it  ever  was  before." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Judge  Bailey.  "One 
great  trouble  is,  we  are  too  impatient  and 
hasty.  No  great  question  is  settled  in  a 
hurry;  and  when  I  think  what  lasting 
issues  are  involved  in  this  war,  I  feel  pretty 
certain  they  can't  be  settled  in  one  year,  or 
in  two.  They  may  not  be  in  ten.  I  know 
as  a  people  we  are  given  to  exaggeration, 
but  it  is  no  figure  of  speech  to  say  the 
whole  world  is  interested  in  these  ques- 


THE    PROSPECT.  349 

tions  and  will  be  affected  by  their  de- 
cision." 

"Well,  judge,  I  wish  you'd  tell  us  what 
you  think  are  the  great  points  to  be  set- 
tled," said  Mr.  Hall,  a  farmer,  who  had 
two  sons  in  the  army.  "You  are  a  think- 
ing man,  and  can  put  things  into  shape; 
and,  I  must  say,  I  get  a  good  deal  puzzled 
myself  in  thinking  these  things  over." 

' '  I  can  only  tell  you  how  they  appear 
to  my  own  mind,  Mr.  Hall ;  and,  I  take 
it,  the  wisest  men  in  the  country  are  puz- 
zled in  these  days,  as  well  as  you.  But 
there  are  some  principles  which  I  think 
are  involved  in  this  contest  that  all  can 
understand.  They  don't  all  lie  on  the 
surface,  though;  and  therefore  we  may 
lose  sight  of  them  at  times.  The  apparent 
question  to  be  settled,  we  all  know,  is,  Has 
a  State  a  right  to  withdraw  from  the 
Union  ?  That  will  be  decided  now,  one 
way  or  another,  for  all  the  future.  This  is 
a  great  question,  and  a  vital  one  to  our 
own  nation.     But  there  are  others,  much 

30 


350  CROAKERS. 

more  important,  and  in  which  other 
nations  are  interested.  One  of  them  is, 
whether  a  republic  can  sustain  itself  in 
a  great  emergency?  Foreign  nations  scoff 
at  us,  and  say,  'No.  As  soon  as  any  trou- 
ble comes,  you  see,  such  a  government 
shows  itself  to  be  weak  and  powerless. 
It  must  be  so,'  because  'Republics  are 
weak  from  their  very  nature.  They  have 
nothing  but  the  people  to  lean  upon;  and 
the  people  are  always  fickle,  restless  and 
clamorous,  and  sure  to  give  way  just  at 
the  time  when  strength  and  firmness  are 
wanted.  You'll  see  how  they'll  quarrel 
among  themselves,  find  fault  with  their 
rulers  and  officers,  and  break  up  into  par- 
ties. And  there  is  no  central  force  at 
Washington  strong  enough  to  combine 
these  elements  and  wield  them  to  any 
purpose.  You'll  see  that  no  government 
by  the  people  can  carry  a  nation  through 
a  civil  war.  It  will  fail.  There  isn't 
a  doubt  of  it.  It's  a  foregone  conclu- 
sion.' 


WHAT    IS    AT    STAKE.  351 

"Yes,  a  government  by  the  people — in 
other  words,  a  republican  form  of  govern- 
ment— is  on  trial  before  the  world ;  and  the 
world  is  looking  on  to  see  the  result.  And 
it  seems  as  if  Providence,  determined  it 
should  be  a  thorough  trial  and  made  on  a 
grand  scale,  has  let  this  war  spread  out 
into  gigantic  dimensions,  in  order  that 
nothing  should  be  wanting  in  the  test.  A 
wider  extent  of  territory  is  involved  than 
in  any  war  the  world  has  ever  seen,  more 
men  are  in  the  field,  and  more  treasure 
lavished  on  it.  As  I  say,  the  men  in  power 
in  the  Old  World  are  sure  we  shall  fail ;  but 
the  people  there  know  it  isn't  settled  yet, 
and  they  stand  watching  with  eager  eyes 
to  see  whether  we  are  really  to  be  ruined 
or  not;  whether  there  is,  indeed,  no  hope 
of  free  institutions  existing  anywhere  on 
the  earth.  If  they  fail  in  America,  the 
people  of  other  countries,  who  have  been 
hoping  to  rise  to  some  share  in  their  own 
government,  will  sink  back  in  despair. 
We  have  asserted  that  the  people  are  com- 


352  WHAT    IS    AT    STAKE. 

petent  to  rule  themselves,  and  can  be 
trusted  to  do  it,  Now  we  are  to  make 
good  this  boast.  If  we  do  prove  it,  the 
way  will  be  opened  for  the  advancement 
of  free  institutions  in  other  nations ;  if  we 
fail,  their  hopes  fail  too." 

"Well,  I  hadn't  thought  of  it  in  this 
way  exactly,  I  own,"  said  Mr.  Hall;  "but 
I  guess  you  are  about  right,  I  guess  the 
rulers  over  there  do  feel  some  interest  in 
the  settlement  of  our  affairs." 

"Doubtless  they  do,"  said  Leonard; 
"but  the  people  feel  more.  In  almost 
every  country  in  Europe  there  is  a  move- 
ment towards  greater  freedom  among  the 
masses;  a  feeling  that  they  have  rights 
which  are  not  recognized  by  their  govern- 
ments ;  and  they  are  the  most  interested  in 
the  fate  of  the  only  republic  they  know 
much  about." 

"It's  a  gigantic  question,  and,  as  I  said 
before,  if  we  don't  see  it  settled  in  a  hurry, 
we  must  be  patient,"  said  Judge  Bailey. 
1 '  The  Germans  have  a  proverb,  '  God's  mills 


A    GRAVE    QUESTION.  353 

grind  very  slowly,  but  they  grind  very 
fine.'* 

"Another  great  question  to  be  solved," 
continued  he,  "is  whether  African  slavery 
is  to  be  an  enduring  institution.  If  the 
South  succeed,  slavery  will  have  a  new 
lease  of  life.  They  profess  to  believe, 
perhaps  some  honestly  think,  that  slavery 
is  the  proper  condition  of  the  African,  the 
one  God  intended  hirn  for ;  that  man  has  a 
right  to  buy  and  sell  and  rule  over  his  fel- 
low-man of  another  race  and  colour;  and 
they  contend  that  society  thus  organized  is 
the  best  phase  of  social  life,  pleasing  to 
God  and  beneficial  to  man.  The  people 
of  the  North  believe  the  reverse.  They 
believe  that  this  system,  entailed  on  the 
South  not  so  much  perhaps  by  their  own 
fault  as  by  the  force  of  circumstances,  is 

*  Longfellow's  rendering  of  this  proverb  is, — 
"  Though  the  mills  of  God  grind  slowly,  yet  they  grind 
exceeding  small ; 
Though  with  patience  he  stands  waiting,  with  exactness 
grinds  he  all." 

30* 


354  THE    TINT-. 

a  system  of  wrong  and  outrage,  blighting 
every  country  where  it  has  existed,  and 
proving  a  curse  as  well  to  the  master  as 
the  slave.  They  regard  it  as  a  relic  of  the 
dark  ages,  which,  in  the  progress  of  Chris- 
tian principles,  must  be  done  away  with ; 
and  they  think  that  this  war,  inaugurated  by 
the  South  for  the  extension  of  the  system,  is 
likely,  in  God's  hands,  to  prove  its  ruin.  At 
least,  we  all  believe  that  the  issue  of  this 
war  will  have  a  direct  bearing  on  the  insti- 
tution, and  the  world  is  looking  on  to  see 
how  this  problem  will  be  solved.  So  let  us 
remember  that  we  are  not  fighting  merely 
for  our  own  interests,  but  for  principles 
which  affect  all  nations;  and  if  we  only 
prove  true  to  ourselves,  I  believe  they  will 
all  be  adjusted  in  such  a  way  as  to  advance 
the  great  cause  of  human  rights  over  the 
whole  world.  I  believe  this,  because  God 
overrules  all  events,  and  because  he  has 
caused  steady  progress  to  be  made  towards 
freedom  and  knowledge  in  the  past." 
"Yes,"  he  added,  after  a  pause  in  which 


COURAGE.  355 

no  one  spoke,  "it  is  this  hope  which  carries 
me  through  the  trials  of  these  times.  I 
am  an  old  man  and  long  for  quiet,  but  I 
hope  I  long  for  freedom  and  righteousness 
more.  When  I  think  of  our  country  as 
once  more  all  one,  with  the  great  cause  of 
discord  and  division  done  away,  having 
everywhere  through  all  its  length  and 
breadth  free  labour  and  free  schools,  en- 
lightened communities  and  prosperous 
churches,  I  am  reconciled  to  God's  bring- 
ing about  this  great  result  even  by  such  a 
fearful  war  as  this."  . 

"It  warms  up  a  body's  heart  to  take 
this  view  of  the  case,"  said  Mr.  Hall ;  "and 
T  hope  it  will  all  come  true." 

"But  we  must  all  do  our  duty  in  order 
to  have  it  come  true,"  said  Leonard.  "It 
won't  do  to  become  faint-hearted  in  the 
very  midst  of  the  conflict.  Our  govern- 
ment must  rely  on  the  people  to  carry  it 
through ;  and  if  they  do  their  duty  all  will 
be  well.  God  will  help  us  if  we  help  our- 
selves.    I  confess  my  great  fear  is  that  this 


356  A    BRAVE    FELLOW. 

generation  may  not  prove  itself  worthy  of 
this  opportunity,  and  so  lose  the  glory  of 
bringing  about  these  grand  results." 

"  Then  the  ground  must  be  all  gone  over 
again,  by  those  who  come  after  us,"  said 
the  judge,  "till  a  generation  is  found  that 
is  worthy  and  can  persevere  to  the  end. 
But  I  believe  God  means  they  should  be 
accomplished  now,  and  that  he  will  give  us 
courage  enough  and  faith  enough  to  hold 
out  till  a  peace  is  secured  based  on  right 
principles,  and  which  will  be  lasting." 

After  they  parted,  and  the  judge  was 
seated  by  his  own  fireside,  he  said  to  his 
wife,  "That  Leonard  Roberts  is  a  brave 
fellow.  He  has  improved  very  much,  and 
he  always  was  an  uncommon  boy.J' 

"Yes,  he  was,"  replied  his  wife.  "He 
was  always  so  honest,  and  so  careful  to  do 
exactly  right,  I  was  sure  he  would  make 
a  noble  man." 

"Yes,  it's  that  trying  to  do  right  that 
really  makes  a  man,  after  all.  Leonard 
carries  it  into  every  thing  now.     I  like  his 


CHARACTER  REVEALED.      357 

views  about  the  war.  He  goes  below  the 
surface.  He  knows  what  we  are  fighting 
for,  and  why  our  institutions  are  valuable 
and  worth  sustaining.  He  is  a  very  intel- 
ligent man,  too.  I  can't  conceive  how  he 
came  to  know  so  much;  for  he  couldn't 
have  had  many  advantages  in  early  life." 

"No;  but  he  was  a  great  reader.  In- 
stead of  spending  all  his  evenings  at  the 
store,  or  in  playing  with  other  boys,  he 
stayed  at  home  and  read ;  and  I've  heard 
his  mother  say  he  never  forgot  any  thing 
he  read:  so  now  he  has  a  fund  of  know- 
ledge ready  for  use." 

"Well,  I  feel  proud  to  think  that  such 
a  man  has  grown  up  here  in  Woodlee. 
Bydney  was  more  of  a  scholar,  but  I  doubt 
if  he  had  the  substantial  good  sense  Leon- 
ard has." 

"He  was  a  bright,  charming  boy,  though. 
It  was  a  dreadful  thing  to  have  him  die 
there ;  but  Mrs.  Roberts  bore  it  heroically." 

"Rather  like  the  good  Christian  woman 
that  she  is,"  said  the  judge;  "and  Leonard 


358      CHARACTER  REVEALED. 

is  a  Christian,  too.  It's  his  religion  makes 
him  what  he  is, — truly  brave  and  loyal." 

"But  a  great  many  men  are  loyal  who 
are  not  religious." 

"Perhaps  so,  in  a  certain  way;  but  not 
in  the  highest  sense  of  the  word.  Leonard 
is  loyal  to  his  country  because  he  believes 
God  requires  him  to  be,  and  that  he  is 
serving  God  while  he  serves  his  country. 
His  religion  includes  his  loyalty,  as  the 
greater  contains  the  less;  and  loyalty  be- 
comes an  inspiration  to  a  man  when  he 
bases  it  on  his  obligations  to  God.  And 
all  loyalty  not  thus  based  is  comparatively 
poor  and  weak." 

"I  hope  Leonard  will  be  spared,"  said 
Mrs.  Bailey.  "It  must  be  very  hard  for 
his  family  to  have  him  go  back  again." 

"Yes,  but  his  family  are  loyal  too,  and 
loyal  after  the  same  pattern.  They  love 
their  country  and  make  sacrifices  for  it 
because  they  believe  God  requires  it.  They 
are  an  example  of  what  a  Christian  family 
should  be  in  times  like  these.     They  de- 


THE    WOMEN    OF    THE    NORTH.        359 

serve  to  stand  by  the  side  of  the  mothers 
and  wives  of  the  Revolution ;  and  they  do, 
I  am  sure,  in  God's  sight." 

"And  a  host  of  other  wives  and  mo- 
thers." 

"  Yes,  I  am  proud  of  the  women  of  the 
North:  God  bless  them,  and  give  them 
strength  to  endure  unto  the  end!"  said  the 
old  gentleman,  fervently,  as  he  leaned  back 
in  his  chair. 


360  THE    PARTING. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE    PARTING. 

Leonard's  short  visit  soon  drew  to  a 
close,  and  the  last  evening  of  his  stay  had 
come.  Susan  sat  by  the  table,  sewing 
together  the  leaves  of  the  little  Bible 
which  he  carried  in  his  pocket, — the  one 
his  grandfather  gave  him  in  his  boyhood, 
and  which  had  once  belonged  to  Gilbert 
Watson,  who  died  at  sea.  It  looked  very 
ancient  now ;  but,  tattered  and  soiled  as 
it  was,  it  was  far  more  precious  to  Leonard 
than  any  modern  one. 

"  Somehow,  this  little  Bible  always 
brings  home  nearer  to  me  than  any  thing 
else,"  said  he;  "and,  when  I  take  it  out 
by  the  camp-fire,  a  thousand  tender 
thoughts  come  with  it,  It  takes  me  back 
to  my  childhood,  and  I  hear  again  dear 


THE    SOLDIER'S    BIBLE.  361 

grandfather's  voice,  and  the  rustle  of  the 
leaves  .in  the  chestnut-trees,  just  as  I  did 
when  I  sat  down  by  my  window  in  the 
red  house  to  read  a  chapter  out  of  it.  I 
was  very  much  touched  at  the  time  by 
grandfather's  account  of  the  sick  lad  who 
gave  him  this  Bible  ;  and  when  he  gave 
it  to  me,  I  remember,  I  made  a  solemn 
resolution  to  read  it  every  day,  and  to  try 
to  learn  from  it  my  duty  to  God  and  to 
myself.  Grandfather  said  it  had  taught 
him  the  way  of  salvation ;  and  I  was  sure 
it  could  teach  me.  Yes,  it  has  been  a 
blessed  book, — first  to  the  invalid  boy 
who  used  to  sit  by  himself  in  one  corner 
of  the  deck  and  read  it,  then  to  the 
thoughtless  sailor  to  whom  he  bequeathed 
it.  and  now  to  me.  What  strange  scenes 
it  has  witnessed  !  And  it  may  witness 
stranger  yet;  for  I  always  keep  it  with 
me.  When  we  wrere  on  the  eve  of  our 
first  battle,  I  took  it  out  and  turned  to  the 
passage  dear  grandfather  had  marked  with 
his  trembling  hand, — 'The  Lord  bless  thee, 

31 


362  PLEASANT    MEMORIES. 

and  keep  thee;  the  Lord  make  his  face 
shine  upon  thee,  and  be  gracious  unto  thee; 
the  Lord  lift  up  his  countenance  upon  thee, 
and  give  thee  peace!  'This  is  what  I  wish 
for  you,  my  boy,'  he  said:  I  remember 
perfectly  how  he  looked  as  he  said  it ;  and 
I  felt  sure,  among  all  the  confusion  of  that 
camp,  that  God's  blessing  did  descend 
directly  upon  me.  Yes,  Susan,  God  has 
blessed  me  all  my  life.  He  has  always 
1  crowned  me  with  loving-kindness  and 
tender  mercy;'  and  I  know  he  will  con- 
tinue to  bless  me  still." 

"Many  would  think  such  a  life  as  your's 
a  hard  one,"  said  Susan:  "  it  has  certainly 
been  full  of  hard  work  and  care  from  the 
first,  and  now  it  is  not  only  full  of  hard- 
ship, but  danger  too." 

"  I  know  it ;  but  it  is  a  life  I  wouldn't 
exchange  for  one  of  ease  and  luxury.  I 
like  to  feel  that  I  am  living  to  some  pur- 
pose,— living  like  a  man  !  The  night  I 
was  twenty-one,  I  stood  by  that  little 
attic   window  in   the   old   red   house   and 


A    GRATEFUL    HEART.  363 

looked  out  on  the  stars,  and  asked  God  to 
help  me  to  make  my  life  of  some  value 
to  myself  and  others.  How  well  I  re- 
member it!  My  life  has  been  a  poor  one, 
compared  to  what  I  hoped  then ;  but  I  can 
honestly  say  I  have  looked  to  God  for 
direction  in  all  the  important  events  of  it. 
And  he  has  answered — yes,  and  more 
than  answered — my  requests.  He  has 
always  guarded  and  guided  me  like  a 
tender  father ;  and,  even  when  things 
have  gone  wrong  outwardly,  he  has  given 
me  a  great  deal  of  inward  peace  and  joy. 
Now,  Susan,  let  what  will  come,  I  can 
trust  him.  I  may  be  poor,  or  sick,  or 
die  away  from  home,  but  I  know  he  will 
never  forsake  me,  no  matter  where  I  am 
or  how  much  I  may  suffer." 

Susan's  tears  flowed  freely,  but  inward 
peace  and  strength  were  in  her  heart.  On 
some  accounts,  it  was  harder  to  part  with 
her  husband  now  than  at  first ;  but  she 
had  not  grown  weaker  in  the  furnace  of 
affliction,   and    she    was    now    more    con- 


361  A    SYMPATHIZING    WIFE. 

vinced  that  sacrifices  must  be  made,  than 
even  in  the  first  year  of  the  war.  The 
hand  had  been  put  to  the  plough,  and 
there  must  be  no  looking  back  till  the 
great  work  was  done  which  should  restore 
our  country  to  peace,  unity  and  liberty. 

"One  trial  I  have  never  had,"  said 
Leonard,  smiling,  "so  I  can't  tell  how  I 
could  bear  that : — the  trial  of  a  weak- 
minded,  selfish  wife,  who  was  drawing  me 
back  from  my  duty  all  the  while." 

Susan  looked  up,  and  smiled  through 
her  tears. 

11  Thousands  of  times,"  said  her  hus- 
band, "  when  I  have  been  inclined  to  fret 
about  something,  I  have  thought  of  your 
smile,  and  said  to  myself,  'She  is  having  a 
harder  time  than  I;  but  I  know  she  is 
making  the  best  of  it.'  It  must  be  dread- 
ful for  a  soldier  to  know  his  wife  at  home 
is  fretting  and  complaining  all  the  time. 
It  must  do  a  good  deal  to  take  the  courage 
out  of  him.  But  I  never  think  of  mine 
without  feeling  stronger  for  every  duty." 


ARMY    LETTERS.  365 

The  next  morning,  before  daylight, 
Leonard  had  gone  ;  the  last  embrace  had 
been  given,  the.  last  "God  bless  you!" 
uttered,  and  the  soldier  was  on  his  way  to 
the  camp  once  more.  Things  soon  settled 
down  into  the  old  routine  at  the  red  house, 
and  letters  came  as  before  from  Leonard, 
telling  of  his  safe  arrival  at  head-quarters, 
and  of  his  being  once  more  occupied  with 
the  duties  of  his  station. 

There  we  must  leave  him.  What  the 
changes  and  chances  of  war  may  bring  to 
him,  we  cannot  foretell ;  only  of  this  we 
can  rest  assured,  that  he  will  be  sustained 
through  all  those  changes  by  a  living  faith 
in  God,  and  will  prove  himself  truly  loyal, 
not  only  to  the  country  he  has  sworn  to 
defend  against  all  her  foes,  but  also  to  the 
God  of  nations.  For  this  we  could  have 
no  better  guaranty  than  his  past  life.  He 
who  in  his  childhood  was  loyal  to  his 
parents,  and  in  youth  and  manhood  loyal 
to  his  conscience  and  his  God.  cannot 
prove  false  or  traitorous,  in  his  later  years, 

31* 


366    SAFETY  OF  THE  RIGHTEOUS. 

to  his  country  or  to  his  duty  as  a  man  or 
Christian.  He  will  be  upheld  by  an 
almighty  arm  ;  and,  whether  his  life  shall 
be  prolonged  to  a  quiet  old  age  among  his 
native  hills,  or  be  cut  short  on  the  battle- 
field or  in  the  hospital,  he  has  the  promise 
of  God  that  "it  shall  be  well  with  him, 
and  with  his  children  after  him." 

Neither  can  we  foresee  what  the  great 
current  of  events,  now  sweeping  rapidly 
onward  and  presenting  new  problems  to 
the  thoughtful  mind  with  each  passing 
month,  shall  bring  to  our  beloved  land  ; 
but  we  may  rest  assured  that  the  great 
interests  of  humanity  are  safe  in  the  keep- 
ing of  our  God.  We  know  his  cause  shall 
prosper,  and  that  his  cause  is  the  cause  of 
human  rights  and  human  progress, — the 
cause  of  truth,  of  freedom,  of  justice, — 
those  eternal  attributes  of  his  throne 
which  nothing  can  destroy,  and  which 
shall  at  last  everywhere  prevail.  To  this 
eternal,  unchangeable,  infinite  Being,  who 
sitteth  in  the  heavens,  lifted  up  far  above 


TRUE    LOYALTY.  367 

all  dimness  and  doubt,  all  discord  and 
tumult,  watching  with  serene  eye  the  war- 
fares waging  on  earth,  and  controlling  the 
destiny  of  nations,  we  commend  our  coun- 
try in  this  hour  of  conflict,  praying  that 
out  of  all  this  seeming  evil  he  will  educe 
good,  and  from  this  fearful  baptism  of  blood 
and  fire  bring  her  forth  purified  and  re- 
deemed, and  made  worthy  to  spread, 
throughout  the  world,  the  knowledge  of 
God  and  of  the  principles  which  support 
his  throne  and  which  alone  can  give 
stability  to  human  governments.  Con- 
secrated by  its  founders  to  liberty  and 
piety,  may  it  yet  live  to  do  a  high  and 
holy  work  for  God  among  the  nations, 
and  see  fulfilled  in  its  own  experience  the 
promise  of  God  to  his  people  of  old: — "I 
will  make  them  one  nation  in  the  land  ; 
and  they  shall  be  no  more  two  nations : 
neither  shall  they  defile  themselves  any 
more  with  their  transgressions:  but  I  will 
save  them,  and  will  cleanse  them :  so  shall 
they  be  my  people,  and  I  will  be   their 


368  LASTING    PEA^E. 

God.  And  they  shall  walk  in  my  judg- 
ments, and  observe  my  statutes,  and  do 
them.  And  they  shall  dwell  in  the  land, 
even  they,  and  their  children,  and  their 
children's  children  forever ;  and  I  will  set 
my  sanctuary  in  the  midst  of  them  for 
evermore." 


THE    END. 


i 


RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 

Wilmer 

842 

c.2 


